Tipsy
by ReadItAllInOneGo
Summary: What happens when your life is crumbling around you? You get your family together, have a celebrity tag along and allow the mischief and mayhem to follow. Now with furries and shenanigans. General Warnings Apply, pay attention to the rating.
1. Thursday

**THURSDAY NIGHT**

"…pushed his way out and he was a beautiful butterfly." Santana didn't need to read the words on the page as she finished the story. As one of her daughter's favorite, she could practically recite it backwards.

"Why was he a butterfly?" Mia asked, completely fascinated.

"Because that's what caterpillars do. They grow up to be butterflies."

"Ca—Can I—Can I grow into a butterfly?" She asked excitedly, sitting up on her bed.

Santana laughed, ignoring the stutter. "Are you a caterpillar?" She teased. Truthfully, she and her wife had been a little nervous about Mia's speech development. But everything they had read said it was pretty typical for her age.

"Yes!"

Santana snorted. Mia was _so_ much like Charlie. When she decided she wanted something, she focused on it a hundred percent. As an adult, Santana was sure Mia would be just as driven as her wife. As an almost four year old, however, it was often a nightmare to redirect her attention to something realistic. "Well then, Miss Caterpillar. Time for bed."

"Another story? Mama said I could have another story." Mia lied. But she liked stories and _sometimes_ her Mamí would read an extra one, so it was just a little lie.

"Mama lies." Santana snorted, dismissing Mia's request easily. If Charlie promised another story, she could come down here and read it herself. "And it's past your bedtime."

Mia pouted but flopped back against the pillows and snuggled in for the night. Santana kissed her quickly, turned on the Princess Unicorn Sparkles nightlight and made her escape.

She paused at the foot of the stairs, tempted to return to the kitchen and clean up the gross dishes from dinner. She sighed, they could probably wait. She was tired, and it had been a long day filled with crappy patients and intricate procedures. Really, all she wanted was to curl up in bed and read a good book before falling asleep. Maybe she would let Charlie cop a feel if her wife was feeling it tonight.

She grimaced when her foot came into contact with some weird toy left behind on the stairs. With a silent huff, she flung the toy down the stairs, resolving to clean up tomorrow at breakfast even though it was probably Charlie who would be the one to clean it all up. She chuckled and made her way to the master suite where her wife was undoubtedly already in bed. She sighed. It didn't always used to be like this.

She loved her wife, honestly she did. But sometimes she missed the excitement and spontaneity that had once been a pillar of their relationship.

She paused at the door to the nursery where her son was sleeping fitfully. Sometimes she liked to just watch him, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to remind her that he was still here. Charlie sometimes called her neurotic. Most times, she would agree. But taking a few moments to watch her son so unusually calm and still always soothed her own nerves. Eventually, she pried herself away from Jack's door and approached her own bedroom.

She smirked, even from several feet down the hallway she could hear her wife making soft grunting noises as she concentrated on whatever weird game she was playing now. She sometimes felt a little bad, not really able to even feign interest in Charlie's games. But her wife liked to unwind with mindless violence and she oftentimes found it pretty peaceful just to sit at Charlie's side. It had quickly become one of her favorite things to do with her wife. That probably sounded weird, but the opportunity to just sit next to Charlie and draw from her quiet strength was liberating. Sometimes they talked about their days, other times they just sat next to one another, holding hands while each focused on her own task.

She frowned and paused at the sight of her wife already decked out in her favorite pajama ensemble. Once upon a time, she and Charlie had extravagant nightly routines followed by complicated plans. They been wild and hot and—all the things they weren't anymore. Now they were married, and stuck in a routine. Don't get her wrong, she loved the routine. But the routine was predictable.

Was predictable bad? No.

They were fine.

Fine.

At least she hoped they were fine.

It wasn't that she was unhappy. In truth, she had never been happier.

But sometimes, she wondered:

Was this what it felt like to grow old with someone?

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Rachel felt like she was going to scream. She threw the shirt that she held in her hand against the wall. "How could you do this to me, Finn?"

"Me?" Finn looked back incredulously, stuffing another shirt into the suit case laid out on the bed. "You are the one who is going to ruin both of our careers."

" _You_ slept with someone else." Rachel flung her clothes into the open suitcase. "I can't—I just can't believe you would do that to me—to us."

"It was a mistake. This doesn't mean we have to throw away everything we've worked for." Finn pleaded. "You don't have to go public with our separation. We can manage this."

"That's all it is for you, right? Your precious career?" She scoffed. "I should have known."

"Rachel—" He pleaded. "I am _sorry_. I will make this right."

'How?" She asked, genuinely curious. She never could, never would forgive him. But the fact that their romance was one of Broadway's favorites meant that this could deal a serious blow to her career. Especially since Finn's new girlfriend was married to a top show's producer. This couldn't possibly get worse.

"I'll take full responsibility—"

"It _is_ your responsibility." Rachel pulled at the zipper angrily. " _You_ slept with her."

"It was only once with her."

"Once?" She scoffed heavily. "She's pregnant Finn. Once is all it takes." Then, something in the way he framed his last statement made her look at him calculating. "What do you mean it was only once with her?"

He looked at her completely panicked, and she knew. "There are others?" She prodded and closed her eyes in utter disbelief. When he didn't respond, she opened them and glared at him until he shifted uncomfortably.

Finally, he nodded. "Just a couple."

She couldn't believe this. She was _Rachel Berry_. Two time Tony winning actress. Star of a new Broadway production. Finn was supposed to be her leading man.

And just like that, the fairy tale was over.

"Did you at least use protection?"

His silence was all the answer she needed. How could he do this to her? She was going to be the laughing stock of the industry.

Her hand moved of its own accord, the slap echoing throughout the apartment she had once thought was filled with love. He turned to her with a wounded look and cupping his cheek that was already turning a light shade of pink. "Rachel, I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Finn." She rubbed at her right palm in an attempt to try and alleviate the sting. It scared her a little, how good that felt. It was a small measure of justice that filled the growing hole in her heart.

She needed to get out of there. She zipped up her suitcase, satisfied that she held the most important of her belongings and purposefully ignoring the pang of realization that not very long ago someone else had been in this very position.

Was this how her last girlfriend had felt, when she discovered that Rachel and Finn had fallen for one another?

Maybe it was karma.

Maybe it was fate.

Maybe she deserved it.

Rachel shook her head. She didn't have time to worry about that.

Instead, she let the thoughts fuel her anger. She had given up _everything_ to be with Finn. She had risked her career, thrown away a relationship, sold the apartment her fathers' paid for and for what? To be treated like the day old trash, discarded without a second thought?

She deserved better than that.

"Why can't you just forgive me?" His eyes took on a hurt puppy dog impression. Once upon a time, that look had been her weakness. Now she just felt that he looked like a child. "I never meant to hurt you."

"But you _did_ hurt me, Finn." Rachel shook her head, pushing past him to gather the remainder of her things. "All of the parties, the missed birthdays, I thought you were _working_."

"I was working." Finn defended, puffing his chest out in some misplaced attempt to assert his honesty. "I didn't mean to—"

"I'm so done with you. We are over." Rachel threw up her hands and grabbed her things making her way to the door in a furious whirlwind.

"Please Rachel, I'll try harder."

She turned back to him, her eyes widening as she finally understood that this was who he had always been. A child who huffed and pouted when he didn't get his way. Finn was used to being the leading man and industry heart-throb. "You'll try harder?" She laughed. "I've been working so hard to keep us together, fighting for every scrap of time that we might spend it together and you _slept_ with other women?"

"It's hard to be famous!" Finn pouted. He reached to "People expect stuff from me. I can't disappoint my fans."

"Heaven forbid you disappoint your fans." Rachel shook her head exasperatedly and opened the door. "You slept with people who will destroy my career. I may never work again. But Finn Hudson, is the god that hung the moon, so it's fine, right?" She scoffed sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "I refuse to stop being extraordinary just so _you_ can be comfortable." He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Comfortable?" She laughed. "You think it's just me wanting to be comfortable? I'm your fiancee! Asking you to not sleep with other people isn't _comfort_ it is reality."

And with that, she left it all behind. Finn, their apartment, _probably_ her career too. She called the nearest five-star hotel and placed a reservation. She was done following him in his footsteps. She was _Rachel_ _Berry_ and she could do better than Finn Hudson. She _had,_ once upon a time, done better than Finn. She would move on, she would survive, and though it might hurt she would be stronger for it.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

He was supposed to be her forever.

So why, despite the betrayal hurting very badly, was she a little relieved?

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Brittany grinned and bounded up the stairs to the brownstone she shared with her husband of five years. It had been a good day, and maybe she and Blaine could celebrate. His car was already in the garage which was perfect.

Tonight was going to be perfect.

Things had been weird the last few months. She was busier at work than she had ever been before and Blaine had seemed distracted ever since she insisted they hire that new gardener.

"Blaine? I'm home, Babe."

She heard a crash. " _Shit_. Hey Britt, I'll uh—I'll be just a second."

She looked around curiously. Blaine's favorite bow-tie lay discarded on the counter. That was weird. "Brittany, hi!" Blaine grinned broadly, practically tumbling down the stairs.

Something was off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She eyed him skeptically. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yes." He shrugged with a laugh, his head shaking at the same time. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Another crash sent them both running up the stairs to find their gardener, Dave, standing over the end table at the top of the stairs. A lamp she hadn't really ever liked lay broken on the floor.

"Dave?" Scratched her head, trying to ignore the sickening feeling growing in her stomach.

Dave looked at Blaine for help and suddenly her husband deflated.

"Blaine?" Brittany asked, shaking her head. This couldn't be happening. "What's going on?"

"Britt—I was going to tell you." Blaine admitted.

"Tell me what?"

He sighed. "I want a divorce."

The words sent chills up her spine. Could she go back in time? Just have one more day to pretend that her world was not shattering? She wasn't asking for much. Just one more day. "What? We're fine! It's just—"

"Brittany—"

She shook her head, completely aware that she was in hysterical denial. "No, like it's just a rough patch. Its normal—"

"Brittany, I'm _gay_." Blaine nearly shouted, stopping her rant. "I'm gay, and you deserve to know the truth. Dave and I—"

Suddenly, there it was, all before her. Laid out plain for her to see without any ability for her to misunderstand. But what hurt more, the item that stuck out against it all, was that he wasn't attracted to her. He didn't _want_ her anymore. She shook her head again, they could make it through this. "But we had plenty of sex. Maybe you're bisexual? We could—"

"Brittany—"

"I mean, maybe Dave can join us sometimes?" She was desperate now, spewing ridiculous ideas just in a hope that her life wouldn't change.

David took a step closer to her and went to put his hand on her shoulder sympathetically. "I know this is hard."

"Do you?" She spat back, looking at Blaine incredulously and ripping away from David's attempt at consoling her. "Because I'm pretty sure you don't _know_ how hard this is."

Blaine took her hand in what she guessed was supposed to be a comforting manner but only made her feel like he was talking down to her. "Brittany, that's not going to work."

"Why the hell not?" She threw up her hands, forcing herself not to cry despite the burning at her eyes and the lump in her throat. "We are _married_ , Blaine. You don't just throw that away." They had made promises— _vows_ —and he was just going to give that all away?

She thought they were better than that.

What about all of the things he had promised her? What about their life together?

How could he just pretend that didn't matter?

"Brittany, I love you, I do. I'm just not in love with you." He sighed as if this was the hardest thing he had to do.

"So we'll work on it." She was pleading and begging and it was pathetic but she couldn't help it. Sure they had cracks in the foundation of their marriage. Everybody did. Everybody went through rough times.

They could make it work if they tried.

"There's no working on it. I'm gay." Blaine insisted again. "Like very very gay. I need to be drunk to sleep with you Brittany, and you deserve _better_ than that. You are a beautiful woman. I thought I could keep pretending, but I just _can't_ anymore."

Brittany snorted derisively. "Because I caught you. How long? How long have you been sleeping together?"

Blaine shifted uncomfortably.

"Would you have told me if I hadn't found you? I'm _such_ an idiot!" She pushed him away, the hurt she felt darkening into raw anger as she realized the truth she had been kept from all along. What had she done to deserve this? "Of course you won't have."

"I'm sorry—"

In that moment, she was done. All of the fights, the arguments, the good times, she was just done with it all. If Blaine couldn't even be honest with her, there really was no point. "You want a divorce? Fine. I'll be back in two weeks, I expect you to be gone. Take all your creepy hair gel with you." With that, she spun on her heel and marched out of the house she had bought with her own money and marched back to her car.

How _dare_ he? If this is what marriage meant, she was now deciding she didn't want it anyway.

Had she just been blind this whole time? She had been happy—at least, happy enough. Now it was over, done and gone.

But what to do next?

She knew she could show up at either of her sister's house and they would take her in while she waited for the asshole to leave and take all of his hair care products and skin creams with him.

Quinn would quietly (or maybe not-so-quietly) judge her and Brittany wasn't sure she was prepared for that level of groveling. Puck would make snide comments that he thought she was too stupid to pick up on while grumbling about Quinn not doing this or that the way he wanted her to. Quinn would make bitchy comments back to him that would go completely over his head and he would smile at her. She wasn't sure she could deal with their passive aggressive arguments all week.

Charlie probably would just pat her knee awkwardly while Santana cooked up a storm and cursed Blaine's name in every way imaginable. But two weeks with Charlie and Santana seemed like suburban-themed torture.

Staying with her parents would be humiliating, but they would coddle her and baby her, and probably let her get away without doing very much housework.

Off to her parents' it was.

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Noah Puckerman blew out a large breath as he finished, a stupid grin on his face as he rolled off of her. "Babe, that was—wow."

Quinn sighed, agitated. "Yep."

He turned to his side and went to put his arm around her. She shrugged off his attempt to cuddle, annoyed. Why was it so easy for him? A couple of pumps in and out of her and he was done.

She wasn't sure when the last time was that she had really good sex.

To be fair, Noah was the only one she had ever been with. So maybe never.

He did, after all, insist on _still_ being called Puck despite the fact that both she and Beth were Puckermans too. Sometimes he could be really dense.

He frowned at her attempt to block his contact. "Remember, I'm busy all weekend. You promised that you would handle Beth so I can finish—"

"I know." She cut him off, turning her back to him. "You told me." ' _About a million times.'_ She wanted to add, but didn't.

She didn't want an argument tonight.

She could practically feel his frown. It annoyed her, to no end, how he would rather assume he knew what was going on rather than just ask her. "I know I've been working a lot, but I might get a promotion."

' _Good for you.'_ She wanted to say, her voice would be dripping with acerbic venom. Instead she plastered a grin on her face and turned toward him. "It's okay." She mentally cursed herself for already having used sex to get out of one conversation, because now her arsenal was limited. "You've just been really busy." She settled on.

"I know, but I promise I'll be more involved. Maybe we leave Beth with Charlie and Santana. You and I could spend a couple of days together?"

She grinned despite the urge to roll her eyes. In truth, she liked it more when Puck was working. She sometimes wished for the life before she decided to be Puck's arm candy. When she worked to support him and he made money to spend on whatever was his current ridiculous obsession. She used to be someone important. She helped design buildings and worked on plans for a skyscraper. They had made twice as much when she was working than they were now. Now she was nothing more than a housewife.

And maybe a vacation with Puck would be nice. Maybe it meant that they could do something exciting.

But it also meant that she would have to pretend and go to the effort of slapping on the perfect Stepford-wife persona. A vacation alone with him? She wasn't sure she could handle that. "That would be great." She replied, then allowed her face to fall. "Oh, I don't know. Jack is still not even potty trained yet, do you think we could ask that of Santana and Charlie?"

She saw the wheels turning in his brain. If they left Beth with Charlie, Charlie would expect them to watch their kids. In truth, she owed Santana and Charlie _years_ of babysitting that they would probably never collect on. But watching Mia and Jack meant they would be watching them overnight.

And Puck _hated_ changing diapers.

(She did too).

Even though he probably wouldn't lift a finger to help her anyway.

"Family dinners together every night this week." He suggested instead.

"That would be perfect." She agreed instantly.

He kissed her chastely before turning to fall asleep quickly. "I love you."

She turned her back to him and wiped where her lips had touched hers.

This was just a phase.

They would get past it.

And everything would be perfect again.

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Charlie laid on the bed in her basketball shorts and a ratty old t-shirt, intently focused on the game in front of her and finishing this mission before going to bed. Santana came into the room and plopped down beside her.

"Kids asleep?" Charlie asked without looking over. She saw Santana nod out of the corner of her eye. "Nice work." She held out her hand and felt Santana slap it.

"Thanks." Santana settled against the pillows. "What's this one?"

Charlie chuckled. "Grand Theft Auto." Even after years together, Santana still was a complete novice when it came to video games. It was nice, simple even, that her wife let her blow off steam after a long day of work with some time to play. It wasn't every night, and sometimes it wasn't even long, but she appreciated the effort.

Especially since the most Santana ever did was watch her play.

Still, they had the whole setup in their bedroom. Santana worried about the kids being exposed to the violent games Charlie liked to play. In their room, they could control the exposure. The kids had their own gaming system downstairs, but this oftentimes felt like Charlie's sanctuary. With Santana by her side, sometimes she might even call it heaven.

"Ahh." Santana sighed with recognition. She stood and Charlie could tell she was getting ready for bed herself, going through the regular routine. After a few moments, Santana came out of the bathroom and Charlie paused her game. "Oh—"

"What?" Santana eyed her skeptically.

Charlie shrugged with a small smile, wondering for the millionth time what she had done to get so lucky. She loved this version of Santana, the slightly dorky one wearing blue and grey Tardis pajama bottoms and her ratty old NYU t-shirt with her thick framed glasses perched lightly on her nose. "You're wearing your retainer. I guess that means we aren't doing it tonight?"

"Oh." Santana took out the piece and looked a little embarrassed. She definitely didn't feel sexy tonight. But if Charlie wanted to, maybe she could change. "Sorry, I mean, we totally can if you want. You just—I didn't think you wanted to—"

"No, it's fine. I'm tired anyway." Charlie waved away Santana's concern and smiled at the relieved look on her wife's face. "Is it okay if I finish this mission?"

"Yeah. I want to read this chapter anyway." Santana shrugged and grabbed her book from the coffee table at her bedside. "We'll do it tomorrow."

"I'm going to hold you to that." Charlie teased and Santana slipped into bed beside her. She winced when Santana's cold feet slid up against her calves, but made no comment.

Santana pulled out her phone and updated their shared calendar. "There, now it's on the schedule."

"Sweet." Charlie grinned and turned back to her game. Sometimes she thought that life couldn't get any better. When Santana's hand rested lightly on her thigh, she was sure of it.

Married life was awesome.


	2. Friday

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews. I hope everyone continues to enjoy my weird sense of humor. By way of explanation, in case it wasn't clear, Brittany is Charlie and Quinn's younger sister. Brittany married Blaine, who is very gay. Quinn is bored with her life with Puck, and Santana and Charlie are a little boring.

* * *

 **FRIDAY**

" _Mom, Aunt Brittany's here."_

Quinn heard Beth's call and sighed. Not this again. She really didn't have time for this. Brittany was a colossal screw up when it came to pretty much everything in life.

" _Mom!"_

She rolled her eyes at Beth's frantic cry. Fun crazy Aunt Britt has always been Beth's favorite, but she assumed that something has her daughter unsettled.

It's about time Beth realized that Brittany is nothing like Santa Claus. She's just a woman who breaks promises, loses her phone, mixes up important dates, or forgets to take out the garbage.

Like seeing the man behind the curtain.

She wiped her hands and slipped through the sliding glass door. "Oh Brittany. Honey, what happened?"

Her baby sister looked nothing like the prim and proper Fabray that she had been bred to be. She had huge puffy bags under her eyes from crying and her mascara was smeared along the tops of her cheeks. "I just—when did life turn to shit?"

No wonder Beth was so upset.

Speaking of, her daughter was still staring at Brittany like she was an artifact in a museum.

"Keep playing." Quinn assured her. She tugged Brittany's arm until her sister complied and followed her into the house. "What are you doing here, Britt?"

"You invited me. So we could plan the stuff for Mom and Dad's anniversary? All weekend."

Quinn stared at her. "Seriously Britt?"

"Don't you remember?" Brittany defended, before her face fell and she groaned. "Did I get the date wrong?"

"Yep." Quinn would smile if it wasn't the worst possible timing. "Mom and Dad's anniversary is next weekend."

"No! I put it in my phone." Brittany patted her pockets. "Shit!"

"Did you lose your phone again?"

"No! I'm sure—damn it, where did it go?"

Brittany turned to Quinn, "I just need someone to talk to."

"No. _No_. Seriously. This is the worst possible weekend for you to do this to me. Puck's got a big project at work and I am on Beth duty all weekend."

"This is the worst possible weekend for _me_ to do this to _you?_ " Brittany scoffed. "I just found my husband sleeping with Dave."

"Oh." Quinn winced. That had to hurt.

"My husband. _Blaine_. Is _gay._ " Brittany fell apart once more, tears streaming down her face.

"Yeah." Quinn patted her awkwardly. "I mean, that's such a surprise."

"I know!" Brittany agreed, completely missing the lack of sincerity in Quinn's tone. "I just can't believe he would do that?"

"Yeah." Quinn shifted on her feet. "I would never had guessed." She paused for a moment, waiting for Brittany to say something else before adding, "so, where are you staying?"

"With Daddy." Brittany's tears welled up again and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Cool." She tried to be empathetic, but really it was Brittany's own fault.

For all of her baby sister's surprise, the announcement didn't come as a shock to Quinn. She had suspected Blaine was gay the moment she first met him. She had caught him checking out Noah's ass on _numerous_ occasions, which puzzled her, because Santana had a _much_ better ass than Puck did.

Not that she would ever let Charlie catch her looking.

Quinn watched the idea form in her sister's mind and stopped it as soon as she could. "No. I don't have time to babysit you all weekend. I'm sorry about Blaine, really. But Beth needs me—"

"So stick her in front of the TV and come out for drinks with me. She's not an infant, she's six. Come on, it will be fun."

"Britt, I _can't_. I promised Puck. Maybe you can get Santana and Charlie—"

"Oh no. I need about a gallon of vodka just to spend five minutes with them."

"Britt."

"Quinn _please._ I can't go back to Mom and Daddy, not tonight. And I can't deal with the perfect happy couple alone."

Quinn eyed her sister. "'Perfect happy couple'? What do you call Puck and me?"

Brittany looked back at her pointedly. "Do you really want me to answer that? Please, will you just ask?"

Quinn sighed. It had been a _long_ time since she had done anything like that. It could be fun, though with Brittany by her side it could get dangerous fairly quickly, "We invite Charlie and Santana or no deal."

Brittany huffed. " _Fine_. Now go suck Puck's dick so we can go."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "And you wonder why your marriage fell apart. Good marriages don't work that way. Communication is key."

Brittany snorted and slumped into the chair at the head of the kitchen table. "Thanks _Judy_."

Quinn stuck out her tongue and made her way to Puck's office. They had spent a small fortune soundproofing his office when she was pregnant with Beth. To be honest, every day with Puck felt like she was living—well sort of the exact same day all over again.

"Sorry Honey, I'm too busy."

"Too busy for what? I haven't said anything."

"I know I promised I would be there for family dinners, but I really need to finish this report."

Quinn's silence made him look up. It was uncharacteristic that he could bow out of a family responsibility without having to listen to her nag him to death. The way she bit her lip made him think she was up to something. "What? What's wrong?"

"Brittany's here."

He groaned. "Why? Oh." He rolled his eyes. "She got the date wrong, didn't she?"

"Yeah." Quinn winced. This already wasn't going well.

Puck scoffed. "Why doesn't she go bug Charlie?"

"She doesn't want to deal with them alone. She found Blaine in their bed with someone else." She explained. "It is just really hard on her right now."

"Blaine cheated on her with another woman?" Puck put down his pen and turned to his wife in complete and utter shock. He would have assumed they would end in divorce, not that Blaine would find another woman on the side. "Wow. I—"

Quinn shook her head. "No, it was Dave. Their gardener."

Puck chuckled humorlessly and turned back to his work. "Well it was about time. Yeah, I can figure out why she's such a disaster."

"Noah—" She sighed, trying to think of what she could do to change his mind. It was a game she played often, manipulating him and guiding him to do what she wanted. It would be so much easier if he just would do what she asked without the mind games. But _no_ he had to be difficult.

"No, the answer is still the same. She can't stay, Quinn I _have_ to finish this report."

She cracked her neck. Time for the real negotiating. "Look, I'll just take Britt out for the night and then send her back to my parents. I'll put Beth to bed all next week." She bartered.

"Quinn. I really can't get away." He shook his head obstinately.

She looked over his shoulder to see what he was working on, only to find the local Fantasy Football rankings displayed across the screen. Typical. Had to work—yeah, right. "I'll also handle bath time for the next two weeks. All you have to do is read her a story and put her to bed." She offered.

Puck paused. That was a serious concession. "Quinn, I really don't have time this weekend."

"I'm not talking about this weekend, I'm talking about tonight." Quinn pointed out. She sighed, and looked back to the door, grateful for a second that they had spent so much to soundproof it from the rest of the house. "Fine, I'll give you a blow job."

"Right now?" Puck put down his pen and turned to her fully. His eyes wide as he sat up a little straighter.

"No!" Quinn arched her brow. "I thought you were busy?"

Puck looked her over as if to gauge how serious she really was. When she didn't back down, he shrugged. "I mean, it's not like it will take long."

"Seriously? If I do it right now, you'll be fine if we go?" Quinn eyed him skeptically. That seemed to easy.

Puck fidgeted a little. "Well it's not going to be just the pair of you? Like you'll take Charlie with you, right maybe Santana too?"

"Why? Do you think Brittany and I need a babysitter?" Quinn's eyes narrowed.

"No, I think Brittany needs three babysitters." Puck scoffed.

"How much trouble do you really think she can get in?"

He frowned. Quinn probably wasn't going to do it anyway, he should get back to work."I don't know Quinn, wasn't she the one who totaled your father's car when she was fourteen?"

Quinn chuckled. She noticed the droop of his shoulders which only strengthened her resolve. "Well that's true. But you'd really be okay with this?"

"With getting a blow job, yeah." He smiled wide.

"So I do it right now—"

"And I will watch Beth so you and Brittany can go tonight." He agreed, then thought better of it and added. "As long as you take Charlie and Santana."

"Alright." She conceded.

"Yes!"He grinned. She arched her brow and he blushed. "I mean, it's just been a while." His grin broadened and he pushed away from his desk and turned the chair to face her.

Yeah, a while, she thought. She fought the urge to grimace—this was her husband. It shouldn't be weird. It shouldn't be awkward.

But it was.

If she was going to do this, she was going to get it over with quickly.

Aware that she had the upper hand, she pulled back. "Maybe I shouldn't, I mean Beth's right outside—"

Puck deflated. "Yeah, you're probably right." He frowned and she could almost see his disappointment.

Then she went in for the kill. "If I do it right now, we get the whole weekend."

"Okay." He grinned and shifted in his chair, squirming in expectation.

She stepped toward the chair and Puck frantically pulled at his belt and unzipped himself. Quinn pulled him free from his pants and boxers. She shot him a quick smile and he shifted excitedly, his cock hardening in anticipation.

She knelt in front of him and glanced at his semi-erect member. It wasn't anything to write home about. Not that she had a lot to compare to, since she and Puck had been high school sweethearts and had gotten married soon after graduation.

She dragged her tongue along the length of his shaft, pausing slightly at the tip where pre-cum was already gathering. He groaned and she rolled her eyes but pulled back and brushed her lips lightly against the tip of his member. His hips bucked, begging for more contact and he put his hands against the back of her head to force her closer. She swatted his hands away, holding them firmly against the arms of his office chair. She took him into her mouth easily and began to suck, gently at first and then more rhythmically.

"Quinn. Oh, that's amazing. Yeah."

 _Oh baby._ She mocked silently and pulled back. It was hard to think of this as anything sexy when he talked like that. "Shhh. No talking if you want me to finish."

He gulped. "Sorry."

She smirked and placed her lips against the base of his penis once more. He groaned loudly and she fought the urge to roll her eyes (barely). She resumed her pace, painting her tongue against his tip every so often and felt him shiver beneath her. She felt his climax building and, despite the desire to pull away and shield herself from the upcoming mess, took his cum into her mouth. He panted, coming down from the waves and growing limp while she pulled back. She spat the sticky slop into the trash bin next to his desk.

"Quinn. That was—" He took a deep shuddering breath. "That was incredible."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "So you'll watch Beth for the weekend?"

"Of course." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes dazed. "Yeah. I mean, honey that was so good."

"You're welcome." She smiled.

Maybe if she kept smiling, she would start feeling something.

Something was better than this shell she was now.

At least she hoped so.

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Charlie tightened a bolt on the radiator and wiped her brow with the cloth she kept for the sole purpose of preventing herself from having huge grease stains across her forehead. Santana used to poke fun of her all the time when she walked around like an asshole with black marks all over her face until Charlie had finally gotten in the habit of keeping a sweat rag. She heard her phone ring, but ever since Mia played with it last night she wasn't sure if it was her alarm or her new ring tone.

She cracked her neck while making her way over to her barely used desk in the corner of the shop. It wasn't good for much other than holding the mess of papers scattered across it and for a safe place to keep her phone. She pushed past the different papers Santana had given her that outlined her wife's expansion plan. The garage was doing just fine. The last thing she wanted to worry about was expanding. Expanding meant new locations, office work rather than the dirty gritty work with her hands, and more annoying clients to deal with.

She wasn't sure that was what she wanted.

Finally locating her phone, her eyes widened at the time. "Shit." She wiped her hands on her coveralls and cradled her phone between her head and her shoulder while she packed up to go home. "Hey Quinn."

Santana was going to kill her for being late.

Maybe she really should start setting an alarm to tell her when to go home.

' _Chuck, its me.'_

"Britt, why are you calling from Quinn's phone?" She asked the first question that came to her mind, then remembered her irritation with the childhood nickname. "And don't call me Chuck."

' _I lost mine.'_

The simple answer made Charlie laugh. She rolled her eyes and patted her pocket for her keys. "Of course you did. What's up?"

' _You and Santana are having a weekend with me and Quinn.'_

"We are?" Charlie pulled her phone back and placed the call on speaker, pulling up the calendar. "No, tonight's—" she trailed off and cleared her throat. "And tomorrow is Lowe's day which means that Sunday is going to be laundry day." Brittany fell silent for a moment and Charlie checked again to make sure she hadn't lost the call. "Britt?"

' _What's tonight?'_ Brittany asked curiously, a hint of teasing clear in her voice.

"None of your goddamn business." Charlie backpedaled. Checking to make sure that she had everything, she locked up for the night and made her way to the car.

Brittany cackled at Charlie's obvious distress. This is exactly what she needed this week. _'You mean sex, right? You two are scheduling sex?'_

"No." Charlie retorted, though they both could hear the lie in her voice. She pursed her lips tight. Damn it, she hated that she was a terrible liar.

' _Can you two get any lamer? Just when I think you can't surprise me, I find out stuff like this.'_

Charlie groaned, despite knowing Brittany couldn't see her, she felt the tips of her ears flushing deep red in embarrassment. "Shut up. My point is, we have plans."

' _ **Those**_ _are your plans. That does not count as a plan. You are in need of an intervention.'_

"No I'm not. We're fine." She opened up her beat up old jeep and slipped into the drivers' seat.

 _'Quinn and I already asked Mom and Dad to watch the kids. Dad feels so bad for me that he reserved three rooms for us at the Crown Plaza. You are coming, if we have to drag you kicking and screaming.'_

Charlie frowned thoughtfully. It might be fun to do something different. Truthfully, a night away from the kids sounded heavenly. "Let me check with Santana."

 _'Chuck.'_ Brittany whined. _'Please? I really need this tonight.'_

Charlie's eyes narrowed, trying to think back to if there was some major catastrophe that she was supposed to know about. Shrugging, she knew she probably _shouldn't_ ask, but did anyway. "Why? What happened?"

 _'I found Blaine cheating on me.'_ Brittany sniffled. _'With a man._ '

"Oh, fuck." Charlie groaned. Now she owed Santana fifty dollars. Damn it. She bit her lip, realizing Brittany was still on the line hoping that her outburst had sounded supportive. "I mean, that really sucks Britt."

Brittany continued for the next ten minutes, emphatically wondering how he could have kept this from her for so long. Charlie barely listened during the drive home, offering the grunts and appropriate words to make it seem like she was listening.

 _'Please come out with us?'_ Brittany begged again.

Charlie sighed and turned down the street to their mid-sized suburban home. Drinks wouldn't be _that_ bad. She would be an idiot to turn down free babysitting. "Fine. Where do you want to meet us?" She made the mental calculations in her head.

Santana just won fifty bucks. She'd probably be in a fine mood as long as she asked before Brittany could blind-side her wife. She would just need to make it home before—

 _'We are all pulling up now.'_ Brittany said, stepping out of Quinn's car. Judy and Russell were already walking up the drive, but paused at the sight of the familiar red SUV. Judy waved excitedly when she saw Charlie pull up as well.

"Oh I'm fucked." Charlie ended the call and waved back at her mother.

Hopefully Santana would forgive her.

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"Guys, isn't this fun?" Brittany asked excitedly. They had found a nice table in the bar that Brittany insisted was the 'best in the area'.

Santana leaned over to her wife and spoke lowly, loud enough for Charlie to hear her over the crowd, but soft enough that Charlie's sisters couldn't overhear. "I'd much rather be watching Netflix."

Unfortunately, at that moment the roar of the crowd dulled and both Brittany and Quinn easily picked up the comment. Charlie snorted and nodded in agreement, missing the looks of disgust on her twin and baby sister's face. "We should watch Sherlock again."

Brittany stared at them. "You guys are _so_ lame."

"We are not." Santana rolled her eyes. She had been more than a little annoyed to find all of the Fabrays at her doorstep, but that was the price she paid for marrying into this weird co-dependent family. "You are just lucky we didn't have anything better to do."

Brittany grinned. "Are you sure you didn't have better plans?" Her voice was light but Santana could hear the gentle mocking from a mile away.

Charlie flushed but kept silent.

"Well pretty much anything would be better than this—" Santana gestured to the bar around them. Drinking herself into oblivion wasn't exactly her favorite weekend activity anymore. "But I couldn't exactly say no with Russell on my doorstep and Judy planning a tea party with my four year old, could I?"

"We are just doing you a favor." Quinn retorted, returning to the table after ordering their drinks. "You guys need to live a little."

"We live plenty." Santana scoffed. Normally she and Brittany got along quite well, but lately Brittany seemed to be picking apart their relationship. She held back several quips, well aware that tonight was probably not the time to remind Brittany that at least _they_ weren't getting a divorce.

"Yeah, when was the last time you had date night?" Brittany challenged.

Santana scoffed and pulled out the calendar on her phone. "Last Tuesday."

"A week day?" Quinn didn't bother to keep the judgment out of her voice. "How exciting."

"Just face it," Brittany took a long sip of her fruity cocktail. "You, Santana and Charlie Lopez are complete sticks in the mud."

She was about to retort when Brittany's loud announcement must have caught someone else's attention as they interrupted excitedly. "Santana? Santana Lopez" A voice from the past made Santana turn sharply, gulping down her drink quickly. She cringed in recognition.

"Oh." She cringed as the shorter woman came closer and wrapped her in a tight hug. She kept her back straight, patting her former—whatever on the back awkwardly. "Hey, Rachel."

"Santana Lopez. It's been far too long. How fortuitous, you and I spending the same night out in the same bar in the greatest city in the world."

"Rachel? As in Rachel Berry?" Quinn hissed. "You didn't tell me you knew _Rachel Berry_."

Santana ignored her sister-in-law and plastered a faux smile on her face. She felt Charlie grip her hand supportively. "Hobbit. What are you doing here, mingling with the common folk? I thought that was beneath you?"

Rachel frowned. It had been years and she was surprised Santana still had this much animosity toward her. She supposed Santana must have felt very similar to her own current emotions. Her frown deepened, she hadn't ever really considered that before. But, with everything, she mostly needed to know that there was a way to get over such hurt. And if anyone knew that, it would be Santana Lopez.

So she would fix this. If Santana could move past it, maybe she could too. Maybe she and Finn were a relationship worth saving. "Santana, it's been years. I thought we could put our grievances behind us. Let's not be petty."

Santana snorted. "Petty?" She felt Charlie's hand rub circles on the back of her own and felt her rage lessen slightly. "That's rich, coming from you."

Quinn practically shoved Santana out of the way and smiled brightly. "Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Quinn Fabray. I've always been a huge fan."

"Quinn." Rachel practically purred, eyeing Quinn hungrily. "Enchanted to meet you." It had been a while since she had been with a woman. Maybe all she needed was a rebound to get back at Finn.

"'Enchanted to meet you'?" Santana mocked, pulling a face of disgust. Brittany snorted loudly at the uncharacteristic display. "Who even talks like that?" She wondered aloud.

"I talk like that." Rachel reminded calmly.

"Did you ever think that maybe that was part of the problem?"

Rachel turned back to Quinn. "It is always a pleasure to meet a fan."

"Good to see you haven't changed Rach." Santana used the nickname she knew always made Rachel cringe.

"You too, it seems you are still the bitch I remember." Rachel retorted.

Charlie stood, placing herself between Santana and Rachel protectively. "Don't talk about my wife like that."

"Wife? You're _married?"_

"For six years now." The blonde remarked coldly.

"I don't remember receiving an invitation." Rachel mused looked Charlie up and down, sizing up the taller woman.

"I don't remember sending you one." Santana smiled and pulled Charlie back to her seat at the table. "As you can see, it's quite busy tonight so just go find your hobbit hole and leave us alone."

Rachel frowned but the _last_ thing she needed was Santana Lopez as part of the 'I Hate Rachel Club'. "My friend owns this bar. Let me buy your drinks tonight."

"Drinks? You think drinks make up for—"

"In the VIP lounge?" Rachel added hopefully. Jake owed her and if it helped keeping her name out of the tabloids with nasty, career crushing rumors, then it had to be worth it. Right?

Santana eyed Rachel about ready to say everything she had thought about the other woman when Quinn tugged her aside and whispered low so that Rachel wouldn't overhear. "Santana, _please_. Just say yes. You know what a big fan I am of Rachel Berry's. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Yeah Quinn, and I think you're an idiot."

"Please, you owe me."

"No, actually, I don't."

"Fine. I'll owe you." Quinn was desperate. A chance to be this close to Rachel Berry? She wasn't about to pass that up.

Santana glanced at Charlie for her wife's opinion. Charlie looked at her for a moment and then shrugged.

Quinn groaned. She hated it when they did the whole silent communication thing.

"Three nights, two days of babysitting. We can decide whether to use it all at once or in pieces." Santana shook her head before Quinn could protest. "That's my only offer."

"That's outrageous." Quinn hissed.

"Fine." Santana turned back to Rachel who had been distracted by Brittany complimenting her, probably, and smiled. "Sorry Rach. Looks like we're going to—"

"Take you up on that lovely offer." Quinn broke in.

Rachel grinned, completely delighted. "Excellent. Let me talk to the owner, I'll put in your drink order too, the entrance to the VIP area is just over there." She gestured to a curtained off area. "Just tell them you are with Barbra Streep."

"Who?"

"Rachel's fake name for when she goes out." Santana waved off the question. "I'll have the most expensive drink on the menu. Whatever that is, make it a double."

Rachel frowned. She hadn't expected that, but she supposed maybe she should have. It's what she would have done to Finn, so she guessed she couldn't complain.

"A beer—"

Santana put her lips gently against her wife's ear. "So help me Charlie, if you order anything less than $20 a glass I will end you. If this is the only way I can get even a little bit of revenge on Rachel Berry, so be it."

Charlie cleared her throat and sat up. "Rum and coke for me. But uh, why don't you make sure the rum is top shelf?"

Santana beamed proudly and allowed her lips to trail down from where they had been to leave a soft kiss just below Charlie's ear. "You are so getting laid later." She murmured.

Rachel turned with a huff. If Santana was anything like she remembered, this was going to be expensive fast. She met back up with the group inside the curtained off area. The tall blonde she still hadn't met yet was talking quickly. "So I say we do something crazy. Something exciting."

Rachel sat down beside the friendliest face in the room. "I agree. Tonight is a night for memories. Santana, what should we do?"

Quinn, seated beside her, and the other blonde stared at her incredulously. " _Santana_? Why would you ask her?" The other, taller blonde asked, not bothering to hide her distaste. Santana could almost be guaranteed to come up with a plan that was safe, boring, and lame.

"I'll have you know Brittany that I can be plenty spontaneous." Santana huffed.

"You?" Brittany scoffed. "Please. Didn't we _just_ say that you are scheduling sex with your wife?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter if we schedule our sex."

"Uh, it does matter. You two are the most boring people I know." Brittany retorted without missing a beat.

"When was the last time you two did something spontaneous and fun?" Quinn added knowingly, "And don't you dare look at your calendar."

Charlie flushed. "I don't know why that's any of your business."

"Fuck Chuck." Brittany sighed dramatically. "It's just so sad."

"No. We did—" Charlie trailed off, trying to think. She grinned triumphantly. "Two weeks ago."

"Really?" Quinn shook her head. "And what did you do?"

"Charlie don't—"

"Santana surprised me with a new game." Charlie defended, "The kids went to bed early"

"A sex game?" Brittany sat up and grinned. Maybe Charlie and Santana were more interesting than she gave them credit for.

"A video game." Santana corrected.

Brittany huffed and sat back in her chair. "Lame."

"I played for three hours while she read her new book." Charlie continued, unaware of her sisters' growing confidence. "Then we had sex and went to bed."

Santana groaned and rubbed her eyes while the other women gave sad condescending smiles. "That's kind of the point Charlie."

Rachel watched the interchange with fascination. This was an opportunity to get back on Santana's good side and she wasn't about to pass it up. Santana wanted these other women to think she was adventurous? Well Rachel certainly had the stories to prove it. "Santana used to get me into plenty of trouble my first year at NYADA."

Quinn snapped her head toward Rachel, then back to Santana as if suddenly putting the pieces together. "Wait. Were you two together?"

"No." Santana spat the same instance that Rachel nodded emphatically with her own, "we were high school sweethearts."

"Aw, that's adorable!" Brittany squealed.

Charlie stood, trying to flag down the server. "Where was that rum and coke?" This was not exactly a conversation she wanted to have, _ever_. Santana had talked about Rachel at length, but having her sisters interrogate her about her sex life with her wife and her wife's ex-girlfriend beside her? It was the subject of several of Charlie's worst nightmares.

Quinn blinked for a few minutes before shaking her head and turning back to the couple in need. "That doesn't change the fact that you two are desperately in need of something fresh and new."

"Santana?" Rachel shook her head. "I can't even believe it. I mean, do you remember the time we were arrested for having sex in the alley?"

"What's taking the drinks so long?" Santana groaned. She had honestly hoped she would never run into Rachel Berry ever again. She supposed it was karma, though she couldn't think of what she possibly could have done to deserve this.

Charlie nodded emphatically, glad that someone else was desperate for liquor as well. "I'll just go get them."

"Don't you _dare._ " Santana warned. She was _not_ going to be left alone in this minefield.

Sensing a lull in the conversation, Rachel attempted to get them back on track. "Or what about the time—" Rachel began, only to have Santana slap her palm down on the table in front of her.

"Stop. Don't say another word." She warned dangerously. The _last_ thing she needed was for Charlie's sisters to hear about her pre-Charlie escapades

Rachel huffed, annoyed. It had been a long time since anyone spoke to her like that. She wasn't certain if she liked it. "I guess it happens to everyone eventually. At least tell me you are still acting."

"Acting?" Brittany's eyes widened. "She can act?"

The server chose that moment to bring their drinks to the table. Charlie and Santana both drank hungrily, desperate for this night to be over already. One glance over at her wife, and Santana was sure they were on the same page. After tonight, they were going home. She didn't care if Russell and Judy tried to guilt trip them, they were done.

"You aren't acting?" It was Rachel's turn to stare at her incredulously. "I can't believe it! But you are so talented!"

"Were. Thank you very much." She waved a finger to grab the attention of the server. "We're going to need another round."

"You acted with _Rachel Berry_?" Quinn's enthusiasm was nauseating.

"Okay. Yes. Rachel and I were together. We moved here to start acting careers. She's a bitch, we broke up, I'm happily married. The end. Thanks for the nice night!" She smiled sarcastically and stood. "Please, let's not do this again."

"Oh Santana, you can't go!" Rachel cried, crocodile tears pooling behind the lids of her eyes and she leaned across Quinn to tug Santana back to her seat. "We can't leave things like this. I never got to say my apology."

Charlie cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh, this night was supposed to be about Brittany, maybe we should go."

Brittany shook her head emphatically. "Nuh-uh. You two are the perfect distraction. If I can fix your marriage, maybe there's hope for me and Blaine."

Santana and Charlie shared a look and the former sighed and slinked back against the chair. "Fine."

"So Santana, what do you do?" Rachel prodded, hungry for the information on her ex. "If you aren't acting, I'm sure it's—"

"She's a dentist." Quinn grumbled a little. All this time Santana had known _Rachel Berry_ and hadn't even thought to get her an autograph. She glared at her twin. Charlie clearly knew about this. Why hadn't they told her?

"A what?" Rachel's jaw dropped aghast. That was about the furthest thing possible from her expectations.

"I'm a dentist." Santana said purposefully slowly, her tone flat. "Or do you not know what that is?"

"Like Orin Scrivello." Rachel muttered to herself. "I guess it does make sense in a weird sort of way."

The Fabrays all looked at each other in confusion while Santana seemed to interpret the comment as an insult. "As opposed to what? A washed up actress who will be lucky to keep her career when the tabloid headlines drop Monday." At Rachel's horrified look, she grinned. "Yeah, I still have friends in the industry."

"It wasn't my fault and they know it."

"No, your husband just fathered the bastard baby of the wife of one of the best producers in the business. Rachel Berry, how utterly unprofessional." Santana scoffed. "It sucks, doesn't it? To be the one dealing with the consequences of a cheater. I can't say it has happened to a more deserving person."

Rachel frowned, but refused to let Santana get the better of her. She smiled apologetically, pasting her best actors face on. "I apologize, I think we've gotten a little off track. Charlie? Was it? So nice to meet you, I'm glad Santana found someone who can make her happy."

Charlie looked up from her drink, already feeling a light buzzing in her fingertips as the effects of her drink started to take hold. When did she become such a lightweight? "Thanks?"

"So Santana's a dentist. Appropriate. What is it that you do, Charlie?"

Charlie gulped.

"Leave her alone Rachel." Santana warned.

"What?" Rachel replied, feigning innocence. "I'm just making polite conversation. I do know how difficult that would be for you to understand."

Quinn and Brittany sat forward in their seats to see this go down. Charlie fidgeted awkwardly but seemed determined to try to act like everything was normal. "I own my own shop."

"Oh." Rachel paused for a beat and she, Quinn and Brittany shared mutual looks of pity. "Like a flower shop?"

"No." Charlie fought the urge to feel embarrassed and sat straighter.

"She fixes cars." Santana spoke up defensively and rubbed her wife's knee affectionately. They paused as the server delivered the second round of drinks. Santana took a deep gulp of her own before adding. "Charlie has her own garage."

"How nice." Rachel's smile broadened.

"It is." Santana insisted. "She's good with her hands."

"I'm sure you appreciate that." Rachel remarked.

"She's thinking of expanding."

"I didn't know mechanics could do that well." Rachel mused. The subtle dig landed its mark as she saw Santana's eyes darken.

"She put me through school." Santana beamed proudly, almost daring Rachel to retort with anything less than total admiration. Charlie had done a lot and she would be _damned_ if Rachel Berry came in here and made Charlie feel inadequate.

"Wow. That's nice."

Santana rolled her eyes. She knew that tone. That was the morally superior tone when Rachel had decided she was going to win whatever argument was currently in front of them. "Rachel, stop—" She warned.

"What do you mean 'nice'?" Charlie broke in, licking her lips. "There's nothing wrong with being a mechanic."

"Oh of course. I didn't mean anything." Rachel shrugged innocently. "I mean, it's just interesting how things change. The Santana Lopez I knew always said she wanted to be with a woman with ambition and drive. I guess things really do change."

"The Santana Lopez you knew was also poor, broke and stuck with you. Forgive me if I think she was a little stupid." Santana retorted.

Charlie picked up the new drink that was just placed in front of her, swirling the dark amber liquid in the glass. Maybe her sisters were right. Maybe they were growing bored with one another. A glance at Santana made her mouth turn down. She wasn't about to let that happen.

"It's not stupid to have fun." Brittany pointed out. Charlie noticed that her sister's second drink was already half-way gone. "That's why we should do something crazy. Something we'll never forget."

"I already wish I could forget tonight." Santana grumbled.

Charlie turned to her wife, thoughtfully. "But maybe, like it wouldn't hurt for us to try something new, right?"

Santana's jaw dropped in betrayal. "Traitor."

Brittany squealed in delight and Quinn sat up proudly. "Don't worry Santana, we'll help get you out of this rut. Rachel, maybe you would like to join us?"

"Anything to help Santana." Rachel sat up proudly. "I have experience in this sort of thing. When Finn and I started having troubles, we tried a lot of different scenarios. Role-play, exhibition, bondage. If I remember right, Santana used to really enjoy bondage—"

"I swear Rachel, if I hear one more thing like that out of your mouth I will take off this ridiculously uncomfortable shoe and beat you to death with it."

Brittany scratched her chin thoughtfully. "This is seriously the most interesting you two have ever been."

Charlie gulped down the rest of her drink and flagged the server for another. She didn't know that. Maybe it was the liquor already starting to make itself known, but she couldn't stop herself from asking, "You like that type of stuff? We've never—is our sex life dull?"

"No!" Santana insisted the same second everyone else cried with a resounding "Yes!" Except for Brittany who had nearly shouted "Of course it is!"

Santana saw the insecurity from a mile away. "I'm perfectly happy with our sex life. But if you think we should try, I'll do it. Sure. Let's try something new."

"There's an expo tomorrow where you can learn about bondage together! We should all go!" Brittany was nearly dancing with excitement.

Santana watched her wife's face and nodded. "Sure. We'd like that."

"But if I am going to a sex convention with my sister's, we are going to need _way_ more alcohol." Charlie eagerly accepted the next round.

Rachel hummed and took a long sip of her third gin and tonic. "You know, it's nothing to be ashamed of, the need to spice things up a little is a need we all face."

"Yeah, look at Quinn." Brittany agreed. "She gave Puck a blow job so we could have this weekend. There was no planning, she just went in and got the job done."

"Got the job done?" Santana scoffed. "You sound like it's a chore."

"Isn't it?" Quinn chuckled, a little less inhibited than she normally would be. "But Charlie, I can absolutely give you advice."

"Please. You were manipulating him." She rolled her eyes. "Totally doesn't count as sex if you have an ulterior motive."

"Well, when was the last time you ate out your wife just because you wanted to?" Quinn retorted and sat back smugly.

Charlie blinked and pulled out her phone, her sisters and Rachel groaning as she found the right date. "Last Tuesday, at our date. The kids were watching a movie at a friend's house."

Santana grinned and coughed to get Charlie's attention with a swift shake of her head. "No?" Charlie asked, confused.

"Remember Saturday?"

Charlie chuckled and clapped her hands excitedly. "I forgot about that."

"You shouldn't have." The tips of Santana's ears flushed a light pink but she added for the table's benefit. "It was your best work."

Charlie turned back to her twin and put her arm around her wife in a show of solidarity. "So Quinn, when was the last time Puck ate _you_ out?"

Quinn's jaw dropped, unprepared for the sudden attention.

She shook her head. "That's not important. I mean, I bet you can't tell me when the last time Santana—"

"June 14th." They both responded simultaneously.

"What? Shouldn't you check your calendar to confirm?" Quinn teased, well aware that if she let this go then her sisters would be the ones interrogating her.

"No need." Santana grinned. Charlie's entire face flushed at the memory. "It was that good."

Rachel found herself nodding at the memory of just how good it could be, then shook her head. "Quinn, are you facing your own marital issues?"

"No!" Quinn insisted, just a little too quickly and little too loudly to be completely true. "Noah and I are perfectly happy."

"It shouldn't be a chore to sleep with your husband." Santana threw her own words back at her.

Charlie grinned. "There is no shame in needing a little help in the bedroom, Quinnie."

"Tonight is about Brittany." Quinn waved off their smug looks. "Let's focus on making sure she has a good time."

"I'm not a child." Brittany huffed petulantly, her face brightened as a golden idea struck. "But we can fix you too, Quinn."

"Oh Britt, I'm sure—"

"It just—" Brittany sniffled and Charlie rolled her eyes at the familiar ruse. Quinn was such a sucker. "It's just been really hard since Blaine—"

Quinn knew she was being manipulated. Ever since they were kids Brittany could make her do most things by pretending to cry. But she couldn't take it. "Fine."

She fiddled with her purse, well aware that all eyes were on her and waiting for her to say something. Her bag fell, almost slipping out of her hands before she caught it. With a resigned sigh, she began. "Everything just feels so off lately."

Had the bar not been so loud, Quinn—or really any other person seated around the table—might have heard Quinn's phone start ringing like a call was being attempted, but as it was they were all riveted.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked intently. She was auditioning for a role as a supportive friend. She had this in the bag.

"Well Noah is just—he's not sexy."

Santana grimaced, Charlie winced, and Brittany took a long drink of her fruity concoction. "Go on." The youngest prodded.

Quinn sighed. "It was easier when I was the one working. Now that he's making all the money, it's like I can't get him to do anything without the promise of sex or a blow job."

Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand in a show of support. She really was nailing this whole friend thing. Quinn smiled at her. "But that's normal, right?"

"Yeah." Brittany shrugged.

Charlie looked at her sisters like they had grown another head. " _No_. That's not normal."

"Well we've already established that you two don't know anything. Rachel? What do you think?"

The brunette tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think there's a difference between being in love with someone and being attracted to them."

Santana snorted. "Of course you do."

"If you aren't attracted to him anymore, then maybe it's time to find someone else." Rachel suggested as if Santana hadn't spoken.

Quinn sat up and grinned at the actor. "It's just—" She took a sip of her wine. "I just feel like I'm not in control of him anymore."

Charlie barked out a laugh and it was clear Santana was suppressing her own grin. Brittany hid her own chuckle with a cough. "And that's what you like? Being in control?"

"I don't know. But sometimes, I think the very sight of Puck just completely turns me off. He speaks and I feel my ovaries drying up. Like poof!" She laughed. "Gone."

Brittany winced and pried Quinn's glass out of her fingers. "Maybe you've had enough."

"Or maybe." Santana looked at her pointedly and motioned for another round of drinks. "Maybe you are just as bad as we are. Maybe you need to do something spontaneous and crazy in order to feel like yourself again."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Yeah. You're right. He's sucking all of the happiness out of my soul like a Dementor."

"I think that's a little far—" Charlie observed, then furrowed her brow. "Wait, you're reading Harry Potter to Beth? She's only six. Isn't that a little scary?"

Quinn waved the question away. "The first ones aren't that bad." She glanced at Rachel and felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment at the woman's quizzical look. She shifted just a little uncomfortably. "Beth is my daughter."

Rachel blinked in surprise and finished the rest of her drink, grateful that more was on the way. "And she's six?" She pushed away her surprise. "You don't look old enough to have children."

"Please!" Santana scoffed with no attempt to hide her annoyance. "We're all old enough to have children. Do you not even know basic biology? Or did you miss that memo when you had your last pregnancy scare?"

"Excuse me, Santana. We can't all be lesbians with fool proof contraception."

"We have two beautiful children, fuck you very much." Santana leaned into Charlie. "And what do you have? A washed up career?"

"Okay!" Brittany clapped her hands in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Let's start now. We are going to go do something spontaneous. What will it be?"

She was met with silence.

"I have a friend who has a karaoke bar?" Rachel offered.

Charlie shook her head. "Ew no. Something else."

"Wait. You guys figure this out. Charlie, come with me. We have something to do first."

Brittany whistled loudly. "Go Santana! Fuck her good Chuck."

Charlie allowed herself to be pulled into the women's bathroom.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Santana eyed the stall with unfeigned disgust.

Charlie glanced nervously over to her wife. "They said we should try somewhere public, right?"

Santana shook her head, well aware that she must be drunker than she thought to even entertain the idea. But Charlie looked so wounded, so nervous, she couldn't stop herself from wanting to do anything to take that look off her stupid face. She pushed Charlie against the doors, pinning the blonde's hands against the cool metal and meeting her lips. Charlie's lip, begging for access.

Charlie moaned into the kiss, heat building in her core. Suddenly, she pulled back. "Wait. Should we really do this here?"

"Why not?" Santana stumbled a little bit at the sudden change in position. "We're trying to do something different."

"I just—" Charlie looked around. "Someone could walk in."

"Isn't that the point? It's dangerous."

"But my _sisters_ are right outside."

Santana frowned and pushed Charlie into the handicapped stall and shut the door behind them, turning the lock without looking. "Better?"

Charlie grinned. "Much." This time, it was Santana pushed against the door. Santana resolved herself to just keep playing with those lips she loved so much until the worried look disappeared forever.

Charlie snaked her hands up Santana's shirt, quickly finding their way to knead the soft flesh of her breast. She pulled her lips back from Santana's, trailing their way downward to suck lightly on the brunette's pulse point.

Santana moaned, arching her back toward her wife's ministrations.

Charlie was _so_ good at this.

The weight of their combined pressure, however, must have been too much for the flimsy lock. Just as Santana felt heat starting to build low in her core, the stall door flung open and Charlie fell right on top of her.

"Ow." Santana cringed, her head, elbow, and ankle all screaming out in instant flashes of pain.

"Oh crap, are you okay?" Charlie scratched the back of her head.

If this was what a little more excitement led to, maybe it was a bad idea.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Rachel pulled out her phone and frowned at the contact before forcibly hitting ignore and flinging her phone back into her bag. Brittany noticed the move and frowned sympathetically. "Boyfriend?" She guessed, gesturing to the phone.

"Ex-boyfriend." Rachel informed them.

Quinn beamed at the information and tried not to wonder why she felt like it mattered.

Brittany sipped her drink lightly. "Bad breakup?" She—of anyone—could definitely relate.

Rachel nodded. "He's been—he's been sleeping with someone else. And he keeps calling to see if I will take him back."

Quinn frowned. "You shouldn't take him back, he cheated."

"But—" Rachel paused and sighed. "I thought I loved him."

"I thought I loved my husband too." Brittany pointed out. "Until I found him in our bed sleeping with another man. Now I'm not so sure."

Rachel winced. "Ouch." Not willing to be outdone, though, she added. "Finn fathered a baby with his whore."

Brittany pondered that thoughtfully. Really she wasn't sure which one was worse.

Quinn bristled. "You deserve better than that." She took a deep drink of her wine, then her eyes widened. "But you will stay with us this weekend, right?"

"I'm not sure—" Rachel hesitated. She was already certain Santana wanted to murder her, but with Quinn's hand on her knee she felt her brain short-circuiting a little. "Santana—"

Quinn waved away the concern. "She'll be fine."

"Yeah, we're fixing her." Brittany beamed. "We'll fix you too."

Rachel grinned. "Alright. I shall accompany you." She liked this. Was this what it was like to have friends? She hadn't had close friends in a long time—Finn's jealousy was nearly out of control and she found it easier to simply avoid arguments.

But no longer.

Rachel Berry was a star.

"So if you could do anything, anything in the world, what would you do tonight?" Quinn asked. For Rachel, whatever the response, she was going to make it happen.

Brittany watched the interchange with interest. Maybe Blaine wasn't the only one who had been hiding their sexuality.

Rachel tapped her chin, thoughtfully considering Quinn's question. "I have always wanted to get a tattoo." She admitted. "Probably of a star. I always liked the idea of a physical reminder that anything was possible."

Quinn grinned and found her hand rub light circles on Rachel's upper knee. When had that gotten there? She blushed, but refused to remove her hand. "Let's do it!"

Rachel shook her head. "I shouldn't—I wish I were more daring but with my career—"

"I'll do it." The words were out of Quinn's mouth before she could stop them. "I'll get a star."

"You will?" Rachel was stunned. She was prepared for Quinn to remind her what a foolish idea it was, how tattoos were just some fad. But Quinn's immediate acceptance and even desire to do it herself—Rachel couldn't possibly find the other woman more attractive.

Quinn nodded. "As soon as Charlie and Santana come back, we will go."

Brittany frowned, looking around. It had been longer than she would have expected. "Speaking of Charlie and Santana, where are they?"

As if on cue, the couple limped around the corner and started the slow journey back to where the group was seated. "What happened?" Brittany rushed over to help Santana on her other side.

"Santana—" Charlie ran her hand through her hair. Maybe they should have called an ambulance. Maybe they should go to the hospital. She would be fine, even if hospitals did give her the creeps. She could just sit at Santana's side and they'd make sure her wife was okay.

"I fell." The brunette interrupted, not really willing to share their failed attempt with the others. She would be fine. She had been hurt _much_ worse before. "What's the next plan?"

"I'm going to get a tattoo!" Quinn declared.

Rachel took Quinn's hand proudly. "Of a gold star, right Quinn?"

"Absolutely." The blonde agreed.

Santana snorted and leaned into her wife. "Quinn wants to be Rachel's bitch." She attempted to whisper though it was easily loud enough for Brittany to hear.

"How do you know?" Charlie replied with the same volume.

"Trust me."

Charlie nodded. "Always."

"I'll bet you twenty bucks they fuck by the end of the weekend." Santana added, eyeing them closely.

"You're on." Charlie nodded. Quinn was way too perfect to make that sort of mistake.

Brittany shook her head and helped Santana and Charlie out of the VIP room. "I feel like I don't even know who you two are anymore."

"Team Lopez for the win." Charlie sang softly to herself and Santana laughed loudly.

"Careful Charlotte or you might end up owing me more than you do." Santana used her left hand to tug playfully on her wife's hair.

Brittany leaned her head forward to look at them both incredulously. "You guys place bets?"

"Yup."

"Do you bet on Quinn often?" Brittany was entranced. There was _no way_ all of this had been going on under her nose this whole time.

"On Quinn?" Santana snorted. "No." She waved her hand, the alcohol eliminating her filter. "We bet on all of you."

"So when I told you about Blaine…" Brittany trailed off when both women devolved into a fit of giggles. "You knew!"

"Of course we knew!" Santana retorted, straightening somewhat defensively even though she still couldn't put her full weight on her ankle.

"Yeah Britt," Charlie lowered her voice conspiratorially as if divulging the world's greatest secret, "We're lesbians."

Brittany ignored the comment. Was her sister _always_ this interesting? No. It couldn't be. Charlie and Santana were sickeningly domestic. She and _Blaine_ had more excitement than they did. "What else do you guys bet on?"

Charlie snorted and helped Santana into the cab that Quinn had tracked down. Luckily it was big enough to fit all of them, because Brittany wasn't sure that the others were sober enough to care.

"What else do we bet on?" Charlie furrowed her brow, seriously thinking. "I can't—"

"When your parents will realize we've been lying to them." Santana reminded her.

Charlie grinned. "Oh yeah. I already lost that one, but I've got double or nothing that it's in the next five years."

"You lie to Mom and Dad?" Brittany blinked incredulously.

"About what?" Quinn insisted.

"Don't tell them!" Charlie clamped her hand over her wife's mouth. "If they know that we don't actually go to your parents' house for Christmas, they'll tell."

Santana laughed underneath Charlie's hand. "I think you just told them."

"Aw, fuck." Charlie frowned. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "I'm drunk."

"I think we all are." Santana poked her wife in the stomach and grinned.

"Wait, you _don't_ spend every other holiday in Ohio?" Quinn clarified.

Santana giggled while Charlie chuckled. "Nope." The blonde shook her head, beaming softly. "Santana's parents are Jehovah's Witnesses. They don't celebrate holidays."

Quinn's eyes widened incredulously. "You mean all this time we could have had Christmas dinner at your house? I've nearly had a panic attack every year with mom and dad."

Santana furrowed her brow. "Of course not, we wouldn't have invited you to our house for Christmas."

"Yeah." Charlie looked at her, confused. "Sometimes we go out of town."

"I can't believe you two!" Quinn threw up her hands and turned in her seat to face forward, away from the couple in the back that she had just discovered were the greatest traitors of all.

"So how long have they been married?" Rachel needled Quinn quietly, hoping that Santana was drunk enough she wouldn't mind a little prying.

"Six years." Quinn revealed, folding her arms and refusing to look back at what had the three others laughing so loudly. "I know, it seems like it has been much longer. They are a little disgustingly perfect."

Rachel quickly did the math. Six years meant they were married about two years after they broke up. She wasn't sure if she felt relieved or disappointed that Santana hadn't had a foolish indiscretion during their relationship as well. But maybe this meant there was still hope for her to find a happy ending after Finn's betrayal.

She was _not_ jealous. Just because Santana was lovingly draped across the copy of the blonde sitting next to Rachel, did not mean that Rachel Berry was jealous. Rachel Berry didn't _get_ jealous. She just got annoyed and frustrated when other people had what she deserved. "So tell me about Charlie."

Quinn stuck out her tongue in distaste. "She's boringly perfect."

"Oh?" Rachel frowned. She definitely still needed more information. Easily recognizing Quinn's jealousy, she tried a different tactic. "I bet that's annoying."

Quinn groaned. "Tell me about it." She frowned thoughtfully. "She wasn't always like that though. I remember when she had a different girl every night. Sometimes, she didn't even know their _names_. My parents were so embarrassed—heck, I was embarrassed that she couldn't seem to settle down."

Rachel nodded to show she was listening, taking in every detail. She felt her phone buzzing but made no move to answer it, instead captivated not only by the information about her ex-girlfriend but also by the blonde who was revealing the hidden facts.

"Then she met Santana and they were like obsessed with each other. Santana would call her to find out what type of mayonnaise to buy. Charlie wouldn't get her hair cut without asking Santana's opinion. Now—" She waved her hand toward the backseat. "My parents use their relationship as the example of a perfect marriage. Can you believe that? _Them._ " Quinn shook her head. "I don't think I've ever seen them even have an argument."

Rachel frowned. "That doesn't sound like Santana." She wondered aloud, musing on the different woman who sat behind her. "When we were together, we were explosive. We fought about everything."

"That's because I didn't like you!" Santana called.

Sam led them into a back room of the tattoo shop. "Minimum price is $50. Just check out some samples and then I can do a mock-up of what you want."

"I would like one gold star please." Quinn requested.

Santana laughed and shook her head. "Quinn, that's not how you get a tattoo. Let's look through the book and find something you would like."

"What would you know?" Quinn retorted hotly despite grabbing the book of sample artwork in one hand and taking Rachel by the other.

Santana and Charlie shared a knowing look but otherwise remained silent.

Brittany's jaw dropped. "Seriously? You have a tattoo?"

"More than one." Charlie muttered with a grin, poking Santana's side playfully. Santana batted Charlie's hand away with a frown.

If they didn't get to have sex, Charlie better not tease her.

Rachel turned from Quinn's side to stare at Santana incredulously. "You got a tattoo? You told me that you would never disfigure yourself—"

"And you promised me that I was the only one you'd sleep with." Santana retorted, far too drunk to care about trying to be polite. "I changed my mind just like you did."

Quinn stomped her foot. "Can we focus here? I would like one gold star please."

"Your friend is right." Sam cut in. "Either give me an idea of what you want or look through the book for examples."

Quinn glared in reply.

"Or not." Sam held up his hands with a laugh. "Just don't come crying to me when your tattoo looks more like 'Captain America' than 'Starlight Express'."

Santana sighed. She wasn't drunk enough for this. "Quinn." She took her sister-in-law by the hand and sat her down on a chair in the reception area. She pointed to the chair next to Quinn with a roll of her eyes and gestured for Rachel to sit beside her. "You have to pick what _type_ of star you like. Okay? Also, you should pick somewhere—"

"On my neck!" Quinn declared boldly.

"No." Santana shot down the idea without missing a beat. "Tattoos on the neck will hurt and will be very visible. You should avoid on your wrist too, because that hurts a lot."

"No it won't." Rachel disagreed. She didn't have any tattoos of her own, but she was getting tired of Santana acting like she knew everything. "People get tattoos on their wrist all the time."

Quinn looked at Rachel like she had hung the moon.

"Rachel—" Santana fought the urge to slap her ex-girlfriend for simply being obstinate. There were a lot of reasons she wanted to hit Rachel Berry and she would be damned if she actually did it solely because Rachel was being a pain in her ass.

"Rachel's right!" Quinn declared. "I want it on my wrist."

Brittany caught Santana's look of utter disgust and couldn't help but agree. It was clear that Quinn was just doing this in order to impress Rachel. She supposed she should speak up and tell Quinn it wasn't a good idea. But she wasn't sober enough to deal with Quinn's infatuation.

Thankfully Charlie spoke up. "Leave it." She shook her head in disbelief. "Let her find out on her own how bad it hurts.

Brittany whipped toward Charlie. "You too?"

Santana and Charlie just ignored her and continued speaking like she wasn't having the very fabric of everything she had ever believed torn apart. "Charlie." She looked at her wife seriously.

"What?"

"Drunken mistakes happen. Getting it removed will hurt like a bitch and she'll blame _you_ when this is over." She lowered her voice. "You should know—"

"I do know how bad that hurts." Charlie shook her head and Brittany let out a squeal of indignation. "But Quinn's an idiot."

"True." Santana laughed, then paused thoughtfully. After a beat she added with a small mischievous smirk. "I still think you should have kept it."

"Of course _you_ do." Charlie scoffed, her face flushing in discomfort.

"Wait, what was it?" Brittany prodded.

Charlie turned and fingered the glass case that displayed the various options for piercings. "Santana, what do you think about nipple rings? They are hot, right?"

The brunette sighed, eyeing her wife. "No." She voiced her disapproval. She rubbed the her temple. She was definitely going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow.

But curious, she stepped over to the case with Charlie, commenting on the various rings and styles.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?


	3. Saturday

**Author's Note:** To guest reviewers and anyone else who doesn't like this story: Don't read it. I'm serious. I'm not being passive-aggressive or ultra annoyed. I don't want to waste your time (or mine, when you review and tell me it sucks). This chapter is over 13,000 words long. I can think of a world of things I would rather do than read fanfic I don't like, but 13,000 words is a lot of torture for both of us. This was a fun and silly story and if it isn't your cup of tea, I don't really care if you don't read it. There will be some smut in this chapter, and in the last chapter. Again, if you don't like that, too bad. Thanks for playing.

To anyone who is enjoying it, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

* * *

 **SATURDAY**

Charlie groaned when she felt something light and soft tickling her nose. "Get the fuck away from me."

"Language Chuck." Brittany admonished in a soft whisper, chuckling. She wasn't surprised to be the first one awake. Throughout their childhood she was always up at dawn, trying to figure out some way to trick her siblings awake to start a new adventure. Charlie was by far the last one up, but for their father who tended to try to run their household like a military operation, she still didn't usually sleep in very late.

Charlie cracked her neck and blearily looked around, wincing when the light assaulted her eyes. "Where are we?"

"My studio on 77th and Austin. In _Queens._ I'm starving." Brittany pleaded. "I need food."

"Stop talking." Quinn grumbled from her spot on the floor near a large canvas. "I am never drinking again."

"I find that hard to believe." Brittany teased. Quinn had never been one to shy away from a good night of drinking and partying. Charlie had always been a little more reserved except for her supposed wild college years. "But breakfast should help."

"Food." Quinn ordered. "Food and aspirin. Wake your wife. How is she still asleep?" She added, feeling Rachel start to stir beside her.

Charlie snorted and shook her head, glancing down at Santana with soft affection. "If you think I'm waking her up before I either have a gallon of coffee in my hands or a solid breakfast plan, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought."

Quinn shielded her eyes with her left hand. It was too early for this. Long ago, she had been able to get Charlie to do her bidding with no more than a suggestion. She was annoyed that somewhere along the way, their bond as twins had deteriorated to where Charlie preferred pleasing her wife to confirming the twins' solidarity. Looking down, she caught the edges of a large bandage on her wrist ad her eyes widened sharply. "What the fuck is that?" She held out her wrist for the others to see.

"Oh! Let's see how it looks." Rachel had finally decided to join the group and pulled at Quinn's wrist excitedly.

"A _tattoo_?" She looked at Brittany accusingly. "You made me get a tattoo?"

Her sister held up her hands defensively. "That was all you, Luce."

"Or do you not remember?" Charlie remarked with a superior smirk.

"Of all the stupid, asinine—"

"You mean you didn't want to get it?" Rachel asked, her eyes widening in horror. She and Quinn had talked about it, it had been her idea. She wasn't sure why the idea of Quinn's displeasure made her so uncomfortable, but it did. "I'm so sorry, Quinn. I thought that we had—"

Quinn blushed lightly and back-peddled. "No. I have always wanted a tattoo." She lied. She gestured to her sisters. "I just didn't think they'd let me go through with it."

"I like how she blames us for her decisions. As if she'd ever listen to us." Charlie grumbled. "Bitch."

"I bet she blames us for marrying Puck." Brittany agreed. "But no one could have stopped that train wreck."

Quinn narrowed her eyes toward her sisters. "I can hear you, you know."

Charlie made quick work of waking Santana with soft kisses and whispered words. Quinn rolled her eyes at the sight. What type of marriage could survive when it had clearly castrated her sister's formerly untamed spirit?

After a little grumbling and cajoling, Charlie convinced the group to meet at a small diner she apparently knew was across the street. Brittany had excitedly announced that she was indeed securing tickets for the BDSM convention she knew was being held somewhere near.

"I hate being fucking up this fucking early." Santana grumbled as they trudged toward the diner. Charlie and Santana seemed almost on auto pilot, not even bothering to look around and take in their surroundings.

"I know." Charlie laughed, swinging their joined hands and pulling them toward the diner. She frowned when she tried the front door only to find it locked.

"Looks like they are closed." Quinn remarked pointedly. Leave it to her sister to take them to a _closed_ diner. She needed food. And aspirin. Lots of Aspirin.

"They are never closed." Santana furrowed her brow in confusion. This diner had been like a second home to her during college, and all through the time she and Charlie dated. There was no way they were fucking closed.

"It's fine." Rachel took a deep breath and smiled magnanimously. She could be the one to save the day, this was her chance. "As a celebrity I am sure we can find somewhere else—"

Charlie just rolled her eyes banged on the door loudly. "Dani! Open up!"

' _Can't you read?'_ A sharp voice retorted from inside. _'We're fucking closed.'_

"But it's your favorite person!" Charlie cried petulantly, only the fact that her sister was watching kept her from stomping her foot. "Open the door and feed me."

The door opened to reveal a beautiful woman a few years older than the rest of them. She had mid-shoulder length hair with a purple streak that framed her face. Dark eyes clearly traced over every inch of Charlie before the woman wrapped her up in a tight hug. "Get in here, it's been way too long." She broke from the hug and pulled Santana in just as tightly but a little more brief. "And where the fuck have you been?"

"Keeping our kids away from your foul mouth, Dani Harper." Charlie teased. "So are you going to feed us or what?"

Dani blinked when the rest of them followed the invitation and turned to Charlie, her hands on her hips in mock scolding. "There's a copy of you running around, and you didn't even tell me?"

Charlie raised her hands defensively. "First of all, she's straight. Secondly, you're married. Third, I need food." She collapsed in a booth near the front door and Santana followed without a word.

Quinn shook her head, slightly disgusted at her sister's lack of manners. "I'm sorry for my twin sister, I'm Quinn Fabray. If we could get breakfast menus—?"

Dani frowned but moved behind the counter where she grabbed two mugs and quickly filled them with coffee. "No breakfast today, my grill broke last night. I've been sitting here waiting around for the repair guy who just called and said he can't make it." Dani turned to Charlie with a broad grin and handed the mugs off to the couple. "But look who has come to rescue this damsel in distress."

Charlie snorted, but stood and pushed her coffee cup toward her wife. "Damsel my ass. Do you still have tools?"

"Who needs tools? If I remember correctly, you can do wonders with those magic hands of yours."

"She can." Santana agreed, sipping the liquid eagerly. Apparently it was way too early for her to count on filtering her own thoughts.

"You're a lucky woman, Miss Lopez."

"That's _Mrs._ Lopez." Charlie corrected for the millionth time and made her way back to the kitchen with a familiarity that can only come with years of experience. "Which you should remember."

Dani waved away the information and called after the retreating blond. "One day you will see the error of your ways." Dani watched Charlie's ass like it was life or death. When Charlie turned the corner, she winked at Santana and turned to the others who had yet to slide into the booth. "Sorry, old habits."

Quinn and Rachel both nodded like they understood, but to be honest, both were baffled. Rachel's phone rang but the brunette ignored it.

"Can I get the rest of you coffee?" Dani prodded, gesturing for them to sit.

They complied easily and nodded their appreciation. "Wait." Santana called before Dani could get too far away. "Do you have any pie?"

"Only the good kind." Dani grinned and turned back to her task.

Santana snorted and frowned. This diner had the _best_ pie.

Quinn looked at her sister-in-law like she had grown another head. "What is happening?"

"They're all out of pie." Santana looked at the pair as if the explanation was obvious.

Quinn shook her head. This was getting ridiculous. How was it possible that she knew this little about her twin sister and her wife?

"I thought Charlie worked on cars." Rachel commented. She shifted, feeling a little childish for finding all of this annoying. Santana should still be hung up on their failed relationship. Sitting here across from the woman she thought she would share her life with, she couldn't help but feel unfulfilled. How was it fair that Santana got to be happy?

It wasn't.

And she wasn't jealous.

But this didn't make sense. Charlie seemed nice enough, but for her to have yet _another_ woman eating out of the palm of her hand?

It wasn't fair.

"She's a mechanic." Santana reminded and took another long drink. "Cars and motors and grills—" She waved her hand like there was a complete explanation that she just didn't care to elaborate on. "It's like all the same."

Laughter floated through the diner and lingered with a comfortable air. Quinn narrowed her eyes at Santana. "Doesn't it make you jealous that your wife is making another woman laugh?"

Santana sipped her coffee and arched her brow. "No. Why should it? Charlie and Dani have been friends forever."

Rachel leaned forward. "If you'll remember, Santana, you always used to get jealous with Finn and myself. I remember several occasions of having to talk you down from trying to beat him with a stick."

Santana scoffed, not really bothering to hide her annoyance with the other woman. "Well look how that turned out."

Rachel studied Santana. "You _really_ aren't jealous." She frowned at the observation. Maybe she had been wrong all along, because _this_ woman sitting in front of her didn't seem to be the same woman she had shared her life with. It unnerved her, the idea that she could have known someone as well as she knew Santana and yet they could sit apart from one another now as almost complete strangers. She had to think of what this meant, what came next. She needed an out.

"No." Santana agreed, it was _far_ too early to have to deal with Rachel and her craziness. It may have been years since she had last had to navigate these waters, but she just didn't care anymore. "I'm not."

Rachel huffed and stood. "I need to call my publicist and agent. I will just step outside." She excused herself quickly and fled, hoping that even a few moments could give her a new perspective.

Quinn watched the interchange with fascination. Santana was clearly annoyed with Rachel, but the juicy details were still a mystery to her. "So what's with you and Rachel?"

"We dated."

Quinn nudged her sister-in-law. "And?"

Santana watched Quinn's face carefully before scrunched her face in disgust and picked up the second mug. "Gross."

Quinn furrowed her brow, confused. "What do you mean, gross?"

"If you want the annoying Hobbit, take her. But I will forever think of the pair of you as disgusting." Santana shuddered. It was just her luck, Quinn with her school-girl crush on _Rachel_ of all people. She should try to shut this down. She really should. This really couldn't lead to anything good. Quinn might deny it all she wanted, but she was miserable with Puck. She had a sense about these things.

"What's wrong with her?" Quinn asked seriously.

Santana frowned. This was her chance to get all of the revenge she had always dreamed of. Not only against her ex-girlfriend, but also against her nosy sister-in-law that always seemed to want to spread the latest gossip. But she genuinely liked Charlie's family, even Quinn. She also knew how much Charlie worried about Quinn and her farce of a marriage. But knowing Quinn as she did, she was also aware that there was no way Quinn was going to come out easily. And if anyone knew gay panic, it was Santana Lopez. So even though the pull to invent some elaborate lie was nearly too much to overcome, Santana decided to be up front.

"Nothing." She admitted honestly.

"Nothing?" Quinn frowned. "That can't be right. There's _always_ something—"

"Yeah, but the normal bad stuff." Santana shrugged. "I mean, she's narcissistic, petty, and self-absorbed. She lives on drama and will sometimes invent concerns just so that she can have something to fight about. It was _exhausting_."

"But you two dated?" Quinn tried to confirm. In truth, she still didn't know much about this relationship and she couldn't seem to let it go. If she were being honest with herself, she could admit that it had nothing to do with sisterly protectiveness.

But Quinn was very good at lying to herself.

So she was just going to go with the idea that her interest was solely due to trying to figure out if Charlie had something to worry about.

Santana nodded. "We were together for a few years. She slept with someone else. I moved out and never spoke to her since." She smiled and looked around the familiar diner. "In fact, I met Charlie the same day in that booth over there." She pointed to a far booth in the corner. "I ate her pie." Santana snorted at the memory and tried to hide her grin. "It was delicious."

"Gross." Quinn pulled a face. "Please don't talk about sex and my sister."

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the last day?" Santana teased, allowing Quinn to assume her comment had simply been a euphemism and not an embarrassing admission.

Quinn shook her head, ignoring Santana's attempt to make her uncomfortable. She had questions that she needed answers to without Rachel sitting right next to her. Rachel made her feel things that she wasn't quite familiar with, and she honestly needed Santana's opinion. "So she's crazy."

Santana frowned, seeing Quinn's query for what it was. There was a time in her life when she would have agreed with Quinn's assessment at let it go. (Truthfully, she was _certain_ Rachel was crazy, but maybe Quinn needed a little crazy in her life). Quinn's decision on how to proceed with her growing attraction to Rachel rested on this answer. "I mean, it's been years. I've changed. I guess it's not impossible that she changed too."

Quinn nodded at that. It was fair to assume. After all, according to Santana, they must have just been teenagers.

Everyone made mistakes, right?

She wondered why it seemed so important.

Rachel stepped back into the diner with Brittany by her side. "Guys, this is going to be great!" Brittany practically bounced toward them.

Santana groaned. How was it possible to have this much energy this early? There should be a law against that or something. Then, she furrowed her brow. Charlie hadn't said anything more about their plans then breakfast. "What's going to be great?"

"I got us tickets to a BDSM convention." Brittany beamed. "The sign at the window said that collars were permitted but leashes were restricted to the adult-only zone. You guys better appreciate this, I spent nearly a fortune making sure we had the X-Rated pass."

Santana shrugged. That didn't seem too bad. She then laughed as she pieced together an important detail Brittany had apparently neglected to mention. "You mean you spent a fortune of _Blaine's_ money, right?"

Brittany's grin broadened. "He owes me."

Santana snorted. It's exactly what she would have done if she hand Rachel had owned more than a few pennies in their sock drawer. "Well let's make the most of it then."

"Sweetheart." Dani's voice called teasingly from the kitchen. "We need you."

Santana rolled her eyes but stood, apparently aware that she was being summoned. "You just want my hands."

"They've got to be good for something." Charlie teased, leaning her head out of the door frame to wink at her wife.

Santana flipped her off and turned to sit back down.

"Aw, come on." Charlie chuckled. "I need your skinny delicate fingers to place a bolt and then Dani can get back where she belongs: in the kitchen."

"I'll show you later what these hands are good for." Santana muttered and turned into the kitchen.

"You don't think they had a threesome, do you?" Brittany asked in a hushed whisper.

Rachel recoiled instantly. "No! Santana would never have a threesome, she's far too jealous."

"You clearly don't know Charlie. With all the women she's been with—who knows?"

Brittany frowned and mused softly to herself. "It's always the quiet ones. I should have known."

"Boom!" Charlie suddenly shouted excitedly, her voice carrying from the kitchen. "And then man created fire. I am like a god."

"I've been saying that for years." Santana quipped. The pair stepped back around the corner, hand in hand.

It was sickening. Quinn rolled her eyes at their co-dependence.

When they approached the table, Santana frowned and rubbed her shoulder. "My boobs hurt."

"Let me see." Charlie's hand cupped her wife's breast and kneaded gently.

Rachel's mouth dropped. "You're just going to let her—in front of all of us—?"

Santana ignored her and watched Charlie's face carefully. Her eyes furrowed when Charlie's widened. "What the—" Charlie pulled Santana's shirt and bra forward, looking down Santana's shirt for a closer inspection. She flushed but grinned broadly. "Damn that's hot."

"What?" Santana followed her line of sight and groaned. "I got my nipples pierced." She whined.

"You did." Charlie grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

"That is really hot." Rachel agreed, everyone at the table fell silent and looked at her. "What?"

Santana rolled her eyes, but turned and pulled at her wife's top to get a perfect view. "Did you pierce your nipples too?"

Charlie made no move to stop her wife. "I don't think so—" She grinned triumphantly when she got a clear view of her own tits and saw the lack of ornamentation. "Nope."

"How did you get out of this?" Santana slapped Charlie's arm lightly, pouting. Her boobs hurt and she was fairly certain it was Charlie's fault.

"At least they will heal on their own." Charlie defended. Though if she had anything to say about it, Santana would be keeping the piercings for a long time to come. "It could be worse."

"How?" Santana challenged. "What exactly could be worse than being a mother of two and getting my nipples pierced?"

"You could have a tattoo with 'Satan's Bitch' underneath a devil and a goddamn butterfly on your ass." Charlie retorted. " _That_ would be worse."

Santana laughed while Brittany's eyes widened incredulously and Quinn arched her brow in surprise. "True. That was hilarious." Santana agreed.

"You didn't." Quinn insisted. There was no way, _no_ _way_ Charlie got a tattoo before she did.

Brittany's grin broadened at the information. "A butterfly too?"

Charlie frowned at her sister. "Don't."

"I didn't know you were so sensitive, Chuck."

"I hate you."

"I thought it was hot." Santana reminded her wife.

"You just wanted everyone to know my ass was yours." Charlie huffed. The last thing she _ever_ wanted was her sisters finding out about her tattoo. Damn it.

"I did." Santana grinned. Then, because she loved giving her wife a tough time about it, she pulled out her phone and found the picture. "But look, wasn't it cute?"

"I want a divorce."

"No you don't." Santana teased, shaking her phone playfully.

Brittany snatched the device out of her hands and gasped when she saw the image. It indeed was a tattoo just like they had described. A devil with the words scrawled underneath would have almost looked badass, if not for the pink butterfly floating between them. "I have no words."

Quinn looked over Brittany's shoulder and scoffed. "You get a single tattoo and this is what you come up with?" She shook her head. "Pathetic."

Santana narrowed her eyes. She knew Quinn's barbs oftentimes stung her wife and wasn't about to let Quinn get away with calling Charlie pathetic. "Oh, she's got more than just one."

"You do?" Brittany asked, scandalized.

"After the _incident_." Charlie waved her hand at the phone as if that offered all the explanation she needed. "We agreed anytime one of us got a tattoo, the other would."

"You too?" Rachel asked Santana.

Santana nodded, grateful once again that she could remind Rachel that she was more interesting. "We tattooed our wedding rings."

Charlie nodded and pulled off the simple diamond on her left hand to reveal an intricate design. "It just made sense because we both always had to take them off for work."

"And that's it." Quinn declared finally. Wedding ring tattoos did make some sort of sense for the couple, but she absolutely refused to believe that Charlie had beat her at getting a more extreme tattoo. She huffed when Charlie shook her head.

"No. We got each other's names a couple of years ago." Charlie rubbed a spot on her abdomen thoughtfully. "Then with the kids we both have—" She trailed off as she thought better of revealing _anything_ else to her sisters, "something."

Brittany noticed the evasion attempt but said nothing. She already had a lot of gold, but she would needle the rest out of her sister later.

"Charlie got a bobcat when I got accepted to dental school." Santana noted, rubbing her wife's shoulder affectionately.

"I surprised her with it, I didn't think she'd get one to match, but Santana got the logo of my garage a couple months later." Charlie grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. That had been a nice surprise.

"And you got this one removed?" Brittany didn't bother hiding her glee at the new revelation of Charlie's embarrassing mistake. "That's a shame."

"You can still kind of see it." Santana noted. "That's why she always wears trunks when we go swimming at your parents' house. She doesn't want Russell to see."

Uncomfortable with the attention of the others focused on her, Charlie turned in the booth. "Dani, where are my damn pancakes?"

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"I don't even know what I'm looking at." Quinn admitted. The five of them stood completely still, surveying the mobs around them in horror.

"I thought you said this was a BDSM convention?" Charlie asked, her eyes widening.

"It was supposed to be!" Brittany defended, watching in her own shocked terror. "It's the 15th. They said the convention was the 15th."

The four others groaned. "Brittany, today is the 8th." Rachel explained.

Santana swatted her sister-in-law hard. "Of _course_ you would get us fucking tickets to the fucking _furry_ convention." This was _so_ typical.

Brittany's jaw dropped. "I got the date wrong?"

"Yes, you idiot." Charlie grimaced, grabbing her wife's hand and tugging her backwards. "Come on, lets get out of here. We can—"

"No, no, no, no, no." Brittany blocked Charlie's attempt at an exit. "I paid good money—"

"You mean _Blaine_ paid good money." Santana interjected, her eyes wide. This was absolutely indescribable.

Brittany frowned and glared at Santana. "Fine. Blaine paid good money for us to come, but you guys said you needed a little spice—"

"A little _spice_?" Charlie gasped incredulously. "I was thinking handcuffs or something—I don't know— something _normal_. _Not_ , a convention where everyone is dressed up in giant suits of humanoid _animals._ "

"Please." Brittany begged, not willing quite yet to let go of what she hoped would be a life-changing weekend. "It might turn out to be fun."

Charlie glanced at the others. Rachel seemed enthralled by the entire idea whereas Quinn seemed too focused on trying to match Rachel's response to form one of her own. Santana shrugged. "We will stay for _one_ hour." Charlie permitted.

Brittany squealed. "This is going to be awesome. You aren't going to regret it, I promise."

"I already do." Charlie murmured.

Just then a man with multiple lanyards around his neck and a furry grey animal ear hat grinned at them broadly. "First time enthusiasts, right?"

Rachel bristled. She was not a first timer at anything. She was a star. "Oh not me, but for them, it's their first time."

Santana rolled her eyes. Leave it to Rachel to find the most ridiculous thing possible to lie about. "Yeah, she's a real furry freak."

Rachel furrowed her brow, sensing the insult but not quite certain what she should say about it.

The man nodded and took the passes from Brittany's hand. "Alright, well congratulations in finding a place where you can join other people in adoring our furry friends. I'm Artie, feel free to come find me if you have any questions."

"Great!" Brittany grinned broadly. He was friendly, maybe this would actually be fun.

Rachel cleared her throat and cracked her neck. If she was going to do this, she was going to get into character. "Can you explain to my friends everything you offer? I told them there is nothing to be ashamed of—"

Artie grinned and nodded emphatically. "There isn't. You'll see that here you are surrounded by people who really think the same way."

Santana, who hadn't been paying attention and had instead been watching a grown woman in a semi-sexualized cat costume chasing a laser pointer with another man in the corner, turned to her wife, "What the fuck—"

"I know!" Rachel broke in, unwilling to let Santana ruin this role for her. "I can't believe you guys were afraid of being here."

Artie's grin softened and he sighed sympathetically. "The first convention is always the hardest. But you don't have to worry about us judging. Everyone is accepted here, furries, owners, you name it. Now do you have your own costume?"

"Fuck no." Charlie recoiled at the thought.

Artie seemed to interpret her comment as disappointment rather than disgust and placed his hand on her arm. "Don't worry, in convention room E we have our Distributor Floor. This is where you can find artwork, specialty items, and even costumes and accessories." He handed out several programs. "When you find something you like, you can be yourself without worrying about society's prejudices and preconceived ideas of what is appropriate."

"What else is there?" Quinn gulped. She wasn't exactly sure how she had gotten talked into this, but she was not very comfortable with the idea.

"Well, you'll see we have different workshops throughout the day on various topics. Some of the more popular ones fill up rather quickly." Artie pointed at a particular page, "Later in convention room F we have the masquerade party where there is a $15,000 grand prize for the best costume."

"Oh, we have to enter. We can win!" Rachel felt a sense of accomplishment. She was Rachel Berry. She didn't lose contests. She won them soundly. It didn't matter that she had only known about this particular contest for less than five seconds, she was determined to win.

Artie smiled. "That's the spirit! I see you have the X-Rated pass. That gets you into the restricted zone in building A." He handed them a second flier. "You will see some of the more risqué costumes and artwork there. Leashes are permitted in that building but must be held by the furry's master at all times if attached."

"Fifteen _thousand_ dollars, damn. We _should_ enter." Santana murmured. "That would help with your expansion."

Charlie shrugged. This whole thing weirded her out a little. But if Santana wanted to, then who was she to stand in her wife's way? "Sure. I mean, only if I can hold the leash."

Santana looked at her and patted her hand patronizingly. "Sure."

"Sign-ups for the costume contest end at noon." Artie explained, checking his watch. "If you do want to compete, you need the full costume ready by then so you still have a couple of hours. Good luck."

Santana tugged Charlie's arm. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right. Especially if _Rachel_ was their competition. "Come on, I'm going to pick out your collar."

Charlie nodded and then furrowed her brow. "Wait, what?"

Brittany giggled and followed the couple. "Damn, you guys are _way_ more interesting than I thought."

They left Quinn and Rachel behind and navigated the distributor's floor. Booths seemed to line every inch of the large room. Banners, merchandise, costumes decorated each one. Some had buttons, pins, and smaller trinkets. Others seemed to have novelty items.

Charlie let Santana take the lead, shuddering at all of the people passing her by. Santana was the only one who had ever known, but Charlie had a mild fear of puppets, stuffed animals and any sort of animal-humanoid walking around and being treated like a regular person.

This was pretty much her worst nightmare.

Sighing, she followed her wife around booths, waiting disinterestedly as Brittany and Santana inspected various pieces and gently inquired as to where the best and most unique costumes could be found. Eventually, they were directed to a small booth in a corner. An Asian woman with dark eyeliner and a hat with long rabbit ears met them, eyeing them with disinterest. "Move along." She commanded.

"We hear that you have some of the best costumes." Santana crossed her eyes, daring the woman to try to dismiss her again. "We are here to win, so what does it take?"

The woman eyed them more closely, as if finding something that piqued her interest. "My wardrobe pieces are not just costumes. They are _experiences_ , and I don't give them away easily, or for free."

Charlie, Santana and Brittany exchanged a nervous glance.

She scoffed. "People come to me, either because they think they can buy their way to a win in the costume contest, or because they genuinely care about the performance. My costume _will_ let you win, but only if you can embody the character." She looked at them again and curled her lip in mild distaste. "You two hardly look the type."

"I thought they said this was a judgment free zone?" Brittany asked, confused.

" _They_ might. But they are also weirdos. I, however am Tina Cohen-Chang and I can be as critical as I damn well please." Tina retorted. "Most costumes you see around here will run around twenty-five hundred to three thousand dollars." She informed them blankly, not willing to put up with these potential clients if they weren't willing to pay up. "Mine will run you eight thousand."

"But you will _guarantee_ that we win?" Santana folded her arms.

"If you can embody the character, yes. You will win."

"Deal. What do you have?"

"I have rare character designs that have been approved by the official licensing bodies." Tina pulled out a small binder and placed it on the table. "Any of the wardrobe associated with these shows will come with a membership into both the International Mascots Association and the National Mascots Association. That means that you have the ability to show up at any public event as the character and take official pictures with guests and enthusiasts."

Santana flipped through the binder. Some of them were things she didn't recognize, but the unfortunate majority were shows she had seen flipping through Saturday morning cartoons with Mia at her side. She stopped at a page that screamed complete perfection. "Mane Six? We watch this show with our daughter!"

Charlie looked over her shoulder and nodded appreciatively. "You could be a good Queen Calico Dream-catcher." She noted, rubbing the small of Santana's back.

Tina looked over and shook her head. "I don't have a lot for that show." She cringed a little when her words pushed air against her tooth and made it ache.

"You okay?" Santana had been watching her carefully, calculating her next move. The way Tina held her jaw, winced every so often, it seemed like a gold mine.

"Yeah, I just have a toothache. I need a root canal but everybody wants to charge me an arm and a leg."

Santana nodded, familiar with the complaints her patients all had. "You know, I'm a dentist?"

Tina stuck her tongue out in disgust. "I hate dentists."

"Most people do, but I have a new deal for you." Santana leaned forward. "You give us the costume—" Tina scoffed at the thought, "and I will do all your dental work for free."

Tina's eyes widened. "How do I know you're any good?"

"Bitch please, I'm the best." Santana pulled out her phone and accessed her website. "Look me up, read my reviews."

Tina paused for a moment and did just that. It seemed Santana's patients were mostly happy with her. One person even noted how Dr. Lopez was liberal with the anesthetic and nitrous oxide. That was promising. "I don't know. My work is the best—"

"I'll throw in a whitening." Santana countered immediately. Seeing Tina's indecision waning, she added. "And, Charlie here will fix any of your car trouble for the next year for just the cost of the parts if you throw in custom tailoring right now."

"Deal. But I have to get it in writing." Tina agreed instantly. Truthfully, it was one of the best offers she had ever heard. She wasn't normally one to barter away her work, but the offer was too good to be true. "All I have from Mane Six is Princess Unicorn Sparkles."

Charlie's jaw dropped. "You have Princess Unicorn Sparkles?" She furrowed her brow, thinking. Princess Unicorn Sparkles was Mia's favorite. If anybody could embody Princess Unicorn Sparkles, it was her. Maybe she could show Santana the right moves. "She'll take it."

Tina scrutinized Charlie and then nodded. "You're one of those puppet-phobics, aren't you?"

"What?" Charlie blushed and shook her head, ignoring Brittany's cackling laughter. "No."

Tina watched her for a moment and shrugged. "Good, because I really only have it in your size."

"No!" Charlie gasped. "I mean, aren't Santana and I close enough?"

Tina looked them up and down appraisingly. "If I had to guess, Santana is an extra small while you would be a medium. I only have Princess Unicorn Sparkles in a medium."

"What do you have in an extra small?" Charlie whined. Maybe they could find something other than Mane Six. They could win with something else, right?

"Uh, I've got a generic fox costume and a limited edition Barney the Dinosaur."

Charlie groaned. There was no way Santana could pull off Barney. A cat, maybe. Even a dog costume was a stretch. But Barney? And a generic fox wouldn't be good enough to win.

"Goddamnit. Fine." Charlie huffed. "Make me Princess Unicorn Sparkles."

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Quinn and Rachel looked at each other and made their way to the distributor's floor, heading in the opposite direction as Charlie and the others.

"So I thought you said they were miserable?" Rachel pointed out, gesturing to the couple who they could still make out, weaving between the crowds and creatures. "They sure seem okay."

Quinn shook her head and picked up an item at the nearest booth, more to have something to do with her hands than because she was interested. She blushed when she realized the item was a diamond studded collar. "You didn't know Charlie back in her wild days."

"No, but I knew Santana." Rachel blew out her breath and shook her head sadly. "And I have never seen her happier."

Quinn shook her head and put down the collar, turning back to another booth and missing Rachel selecting the very one Quinn had first picked. Quinn ran her fingers along the fur of a blue generic animal costume and huffed slightly. "It's just—ever since she met Santana, Charlie's been weird."

"How so?"

"She was always the partier. Even in high school she had a different girl on her arm nearly every day. In college, it was worse." Quinn's fingers trailed the various costumes until she settled on a soft grey number with what looked like hot pink stripes. "It's just not the same."

"Maybe she's changed?" Rachel asked, noting the nice coordination. She discretely checked and noted that the get up was indeed in her size. Wordlessly, she caught the eye of the booth owner and held out her credit card, pointing to the item that Quinn still was running her fingers through. "I mean, it _is_ part of getting older."

"You haven't seen what Charlie's sacrificed for Santana." Quinn turned again to move onto the next booth, struggling to identify her thoughts. Rachel joined her a few moments later, another bag in hand. This booth seemed to have the animal foam head shapes. Quinn touched several, her fingers dancing along the lines of each animal's face, lips, and nose. "Santana just doesn't appreciate Charlie."

Rachel frowned. Based on what she had seen, that didn't seem to be the case. She knew Santana, probably better than anyone at one point. But she had _never_ seen the same devotion that had taken up residence in the Latina's eyes. But maybe she was wrong. Quinn did know the couple longer. "What do you mean?"

"Did you know that Charlie was studying _mechanical engineering_ when they got together?" Quinn asked, settling on a large cat's head that had good symmetrical lines. She tapped it a couple of times and folded her arms over her chest. "Then she brings Santana home to meet my parents and all of the sudden she's engaged and dropping out of school to work at the garage full time."

Rachel's frown deepened. "Well, was that Charlie's decision? I mean, things change—"

"No!" Quinn spat, "You don't change overnight! Charlie even admitted to me later that she did it so that she could put _Santana_ through school. Who does that?" She spun to move on to the next booth but Rachel grabbed her wrist.

Quinn hissed at the unintended contact with her new tattoo.

"I'm so sorry!" Rachel winced immediately. "I just meant—please don't run away. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm not taking your side."

Quinn deflated a little. "It's fine." She rubbed her wrist and pointed to the head she had been eyeing. "You should get that one."

"Do you think it is good enough to beat Santana?"

"What's going on with the two of you?" Quinn replied, not answering—mostly because she had no idea what counted as a _good_ furry costume instead of a _bad_ one.

"I'm not trying to break them up, if that's what you think." Rachel folded her own arms defensively. "I was just excited to see an old friend."

Quinn felt a rush of relief that she still had a chance with Rachel, then furrowed her brow. She was married. Rachel's relationship status shouldn't matter.

But it did.

She would have to worry about that later.

"I don't think that." Quinn admitted. "I just—I don't get it."

"She was my best friend at one point." Rachel revealed. "We had been dating secretly, Santana was terrified what it would do to her reputation. Santana sort of became the center of a large controversy when she got outed—it was bad, very public, very painful—then people kind of realized that we must be together."

"That couldn't have gone smoothly." Quinn noted.

"To be honest, I was just grateful we didn't have to hide anymore." Rachel frowned and shook her head self-deprecatingly. "It was actually probably really selfish."

"You were only in high school." Quinn noted.

Realizing that the booth owner was waiting on them, Rachel gestured toward the foam head that Quinn had suggested and handed over her card. "Yeah, but so was she."

Quinn couldn't help but want to push for the rest of the story. "Santana said you cheated on her." She tried to keep any accusation out of her voice. She didn't blame Rachel, or think she was a terrible person. She really just wanted the details.

Okay, maybe she also just wanted Rachel to keep talking as well.

Rachel sighed. "I did. It was the worst mistake of my life."

"What happened?" Quinn asked, then realizing it might seem like she was pushing too hard, she tried to soften her inquiry. "I mean, you just don't seem like the type."

Rachel smiled softly. "I'm not. At least, I didn't think I was. Santana and I moved to New York to start our acting careers. I had been accepted to NYADA and she had been accepted to NYU. I had somehow managed to convince her to take a gap year where we worked on our portfolio before beginning school." She shook her head in dismay. "It was so stupid. We were broke, working the best acting jobs we could find—which were terrible—but any time she had a modicum of success I would rip her apart for it."

Quinn nodded. She knew what that was like. Actually, minus being broke, she felt like she did that with Puck. Any time he had something good happen, she felt threatened, diminished somehow.

Did that mean that she was fated to follow Rachel's mistakes?

Or just doomed to a lifetime of misery?

Rachel continued. "She took an extra semester off, I think she thought maybe she could support me through school. I started at NYADA and it was amazing, breathtaking even. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. We agreed to keep our relationship secret, I think she just wanted something private."

"And you?"

"I didn't want it hurting my career." Rachel clarified.

"And Santana was jealous? Of your school success?" Quinn guessed.

"No!" Rachel stomped her foot and smiled knowingly. "She should have been, right? Instead, she started getting noticed. She got a commercial! I was livid."

"How _dare_ she?" Quinn teased.

Rachel laughed. "Exactly. It wasn't fair, but I held her to a different standard. _I_ was supposed to be the star." They got another bag, this time much larger and they moved on to another booth. After looking around and not finding anything interesting, they moved on again.

Finally, Rachel continued her story. "Santana started school, and she was such a natural."

"But—" Quinn prodded, sensing with Rachel's pause that there was an exception coming.

"But I could tell she hated it."

"Really?" Quinn couldn't stop the question if she had tried. She always got the impression that Santana had a little too much dramatic flair.

Rachel nodded slowly, looking fondly over a small blue trinket. "She took chemistry and math classes because it was part of her general requirements, but I could almost set the calendar by what day it was. Tuesdays and Thursdays she was nearly despondent because those were drama class days."

"So you were trying to get her to change?" Quinn asked, chewing the inside of her lip. She wasn't sure she understood, but she wanted to. She could not care less about Santana's motivations for things, but she wanted to know how Rachel felt about this—how she felt about anything. "By cheating?"

"I wish." Rachel pulled Quinn to the next booth. "I resented her for her success and then hated myself for it. I thought if I could get her to stick with it, that maybe we could work out. Every time she brought up doing something different, I staged an elaborate argument and had her convinced that theater was her life."

"I don't know that I get it." Quinn admitted. "Then why did you—"

"She was pulling away." Rachel frowned, to this day the memory of those months still filled her with sadness. "And then the rumors started."

"Rumors?"

"At NYADA." Rachel clarified. "Finn had asked me out repeatedly which nearly drove Santana crazy with jealousy. This entire time I had kept her from being publicly recognized as my girlfriend. But Finn was persistent and I wasn't interested. Then he started assuming, correctly, that I was sleeping with a woman."

"He told everyone you were a lesbian?" Quinn asked incredulously. "And you still—you were with him for years!"

"I didn't know he started the rumors until much later, and I am _not_ a lesbian. I am bisexual." Rachel sighed. "But the rumors did damage—not a lot, enough that amateur directors told me that I was an unrealistic choice to cast in a romantic comedy."

"Oh no."

"I should have been mature enough to realize that those weren't directors I would want parts from anyway." Rachel admitted. "But I wasn't."

"So you slept with Finn—"

"Yes." She nodded. "I did." She took a deep breath, "But you have to remember. We fought a lot—not that _that_ is an excuse, but I was scared and Santana was the only person I had ever been with. I thought—I _honestly_ thought Santana would never be the type to want to get married and have kids. I thought Finn could give me all of the things she couldn't."

"They have a dog too."

"It was the worst mistake I ever made." Rachel turned away from the trinkets and moved onto another booth. She felt, more than saw, Quinn return to her side. "But she honestly seems happy."

Quinn nodded. She understood more than she wanted to. "When Santana told us she wanted to go to dental school, I felt…I don't know, I felt vindicated. Like I was waiting for their relationship to fall apart just like mine and Puck's had."

Rachel listened with rapt attention.

"I mean, dental school is expensive. _Far_ more expensive than a master's program in architecture. Did you know it is the most expensive of all professional programs?"

"I didn't." Rachel realized the question was rhetorical, but figured that Quinn needed the support anyway.

"I was just _waiting_ for that moment where Charlie came to me and asked how I did it all, because it was a fucking mess. Instead, Charlie dropped out of school that same semester determined to put Santana through school."

"Your husband wasn't supportive?"

"Charlie basically busted her ass to make sure that they had money for Santana's school and enough money for them to survive. I had Puck complaining every night that I came home after five-thirty because I wasn't home to cook him dinner."

"Ouch."

Quinn shrugged. "I'm sure he felt emasculated. But he didn't go to college, what did he _expect_ was going to happen?" Quinn sighed. "I don't know, I guess I just thought it would be different."

Rachel nodded. "But it wasn't."

"No." Quinn sighed. "Santana right now makes three times what Charlie does and it's like Charlie doesn't even care. But I have Puck comparing my pay stub from six years ago to what he is making now, trying to justify why it makes sense for me to stay at home while he 'works'."

"That sucks."

"It gets even worse! I mean, it's like they are some sort of sports team. Charlie was _right there_ with Santana, changing diapers, showing up to pre-school interviews, buying baby furniture. She doesn't barter with sex, doesn't try to bend Santana to her will. She doesn't beg Santana to take care of her even if she's busy." Quinn threw up her hands in exasperation. "I don't know what to even make of it anymore."

"Did you ever think—" Rachel paused. Maybe this wasn't her place. She had only known Quinn for less than twenty-four hours. But then, she had never been good at identifying appropriate social cues. "Did you ever think that maybe it is you and _Puck_ who need to look at your marriage?"

"I don't even know that I care anymore." Quinn admitted, then clapped her hand over her own mouth. "I didn't say that."

"Why not? Was it the truth?" Rachel pressed.

Quinn nodded.

"Then you _did_ say it." Rachel took Quinn's hand. "And it matters to me, that you're happy."

"Why?" She couldn't stop the question from bubbling out. Puck was kind and attentive as a husband, but he never actually seemed to care one way or the other about her happiness. Sure, he didn't want her to be _unhappy,_ but just sitting and listening to the events of her day? That just didn't seem to be something he was interested in.

Rachel rubbed her thumb against the back of Quinn's hand, thinking of the words. She wasn't quite sure herself. Finn had never really been that complicated. As long as he wasn't hungry, tired, or sex deprived he was simplistically easy to deal with. Santana on the other hand was a hurricane of different emotions that Rachel never really felt she understood.

But Quinn was different.

Quinn—that saying that still waters ran deep—that was Quinn. She was calm and cool on the surface, easy to antagonize others but slow to show reactions to others' comments. But Rachel could feel that there was more. There was a vulnerability that Quinn hid from everyone, her twin included, that Rachel felt honored to have seen brief glimpses of. So much ebbed and flowed beneath the surface that Rachel hungered to learn more.

"It just does." She settled on, smiling as she tugged Quinn to the next booth. She may have only known Quinn for a few hours, but they were some of the happiest hours of her life.

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This was the most ridiculous thing she had ever done. Scratch that this was the second most ridiculous thing she had ever done. That time on her and Santana's first date? That was by far the worst.

But this was a very close second.

The costume Tina had given them was close. It had all the right basic shapes, accessories and colors. But there had been one thing drastically missing. And damn it if she was going to do this at all, she was going to do it right.

They spent the next two hours searching the distributor floor for the perfect pink sparkle fairy wand. Finally, tucked away in a large booth in the back corner they found the perfect item. Luckily hours of practice with Mia had given her the skills to wield the wand held tightly between the palms of her two hands. Or hooves. Whatever.

Santana had the brilliant idea to fill her satchel with sparkly fairy dust. But finding oatmeal and sparkles and glitter was damn near impossible at this stupid overgrown party for missed it. After looking for several hours they managed to track down the items and in a perfect combination Santana recreated a lifelike version of Princess Unicorn Fairy's signature item.

Eventually, her character was called and she pranced out on stage like an idiot. Unfortunately, too many games with Mia involved the same moves in some fashion, so she was already an old pro.

She galloped and danced around the stage, ever aware of every tilt of her head and unicorn skip.

It was humiliating.

Fortunately, no one could tell it was her. That was the one redeeming fact about this activity.

The crowd cheered and she trotted offstage, removing her foam head to watch the other performers while she kept a safe distance at Santana's side.

Charlie felt her sister's gaze boring holes into her and finally turned to look at her. Brittany was grinning maniacally, "That was seriously the best thing I've ever seen."

"You were perfect out there." Santana wrapped her arms around her neck, kissing her on the cheek.

Charlie side eyed her wife. She knew what that tone meant. "You took pictures, didn't you?"

Santana scoffed. "You think that I, knowing that you are mildly terrified of puppets would take pictures of something you would find embarrassing and mostly horrifying? Of course not." Charlie just kept watching her and Santana's grin broadened. "I took a video."

"Of course you did."

"Want to watch it?" She asked, already pulling out her phone.

Charlie paused, but then shrugged. "Yeah sure."

She watched herself and damn if she didn't look just like the kids' cartoon character. "I forgot to throw the Fairy Dust." She mused, mildly disappointed.

Santana laughed. "When they call you back up for the finals you can throw it." She assured and kissed Charlie again chastely on the cheek. "If you don't win there is a serious conspiracy going on."

"I took pictures, though!" Brittany added, holding up her phone as evidence. "I totally know what's going on the Fabray Family Newsletter at Christmas."

Charlie groaned. Could this day get any worse?

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Rachel paced nervously in the wings, intermittently pulling her hand up to her lips to chew nervously on her fingernails only to be greeted with a mouth full of faux fur. After about the fifth repetition of this cycle, Quinn pulled Rachel so her side and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"Relax, you look amazing." Quinn rubbed the shorter woman's back affectionately.

It was true. In her get-up with the accessories they had managed to find, Rachel had created the character they had jokingly named Officer Pussy. They had found a police vest, badge, night stick and even fur covered police issue handcuffs. The dark blue police vest stood out sharply against the lighter colors of Rachel's chosen fur and with the head in place and her fake big blue eyes, Quinn would almost assume this had been a _genuine_ character out of some childhood show.

"Amazing won't cut it. Did you see that horse/unicorn thing? He was amazing!"

"I'm pretty sure Princess Unicorn Fairy is a girl." Quinn quipped.

Rachel threw up her hands in dismay pulling away slightly but still standing intimately close to her new friend. "How can I compete with an _actual_ character?"

"I'm sure the judges will admire your originality."

"I came here to win." Rachel reminded her pointedly. "Rachel Berry does not get second place."

Quinn laughed at Rachel's concern and locked eyes with the other woman. People said that the eyes were the window to the soul. She had never understood what they meant until that very moment. The brown eyes before her swirled with so many emotions that Quinn almost felt awed at the sheer volume. She could see Rachel's excitement, met with nervousness encompassed around a childhood giddiness that Quinn could only envy.

She didn't realize that her gaze was locked with Rachel's, that the other woman was just as entranced. All she could feel was the tug between their two hearts as their souls connected without words.

All she knew was how her body yearned for the taste of Rachel's lips. As if moving of their own accord, her lips moved toward Rachel's pausing inches away in a silent plea for the other woman's permission. Rachel met her the rest of the way, crashing their lips together as if her very life depended on it. Rachel dropped the nightstick that had been in her hand, using her fur covered paw to snake around Quinn's back and pull the blonde closer to her.

Quinn pulled back to catch her breath. "Wow." She gasped.

Rachel licked her lips, savoring the briefest taste of Quinn before it was gone entirely. "You're married." Rachel panted.

Maybe she was this person: a cheater. She didn't want to stop, but she also wasn't going to be Quinn's dirty mistress.

She wanted _much_ more than that.

She wanted Quinn to be the woman she woke up next to. It was ridiculously early, but she couldn't help it.

"I don't want to be." Quinn admitted, seeing Rachel's grin emboldened her. She clenched her fingers tightly in the fur of Rachel's chest and pulled the smaller woman toward her.

Their tongues battled for dominance, caressing one another as if the very fabric of time and space might fall apart. It was the kiss that screenwriters made movies for, a desperate exchange filled with emotion but accelerated by the realization that all of this could disappear in an instant. For Quinn, it was the frantic call of a woman who feared what would happen if she stayed in the bland life that had been carved out for her. For Rachel, it was the desperation fueled by the betrayal of someone she had trusted.

Quinn felt frantic, desperate to touch any part of Rachel but stopped by the furry bodysuit that seemed to difficult to remove. Unwilling to part from their kiss for long enough to figure out the button/zipper combo, she shed her own shirt and unbuttoned her pants.

Rachel ripped off the glove covering her paw, revealing her short manicured fingernails. She pulled away from Quinn's mouth, a lecherous look on her face as she took in every inch of the other woman. Quinn panted softly, her eyes dilated with desire. Rachel took Quinn's wrists and held them above the blonde's head, pinning her against the wall with her still fur covered hand. She placed her hand against the small of Quinn's back. Starting at the blonde's neck, she trailed kisses down until she reached the other woman's collarbone. She sucked lightly and intently, marking the blonde as her own.

Quinn moaned at the contact, her body reacting as if it had been stranded in a desert for years without water. She squirmed as she felt a rush of heat pool in her core. She ached for Rachel's touch, arching her hips closer to the other woman. "Touch me, please." She begged.

Rachel grinned. "Where?"

"Anywhere." Quinn gasped as Rachel's fingers surprised her, sliding off her bra and cupping her right breast firmly. "Yes, fuck yes."

Rachel's grin broadened, feeling her own wetness gather. But this moment, this was for Quinn. Brushing her thumb against Quinn's nipple, she leaned forward and took the peak between her lips, trailing her fingers against Quinn's taut abdomen until they found their goal. She fingered lightly the soft curls and chuckled when Quinn moaned loudly. She could already feel Quinn's wetness.

"Rachel, _please_." Quinn squirmed. She was so close, closer than she had been in _years._

Rachel's fingers paused, deciding against following the trail of wetness to its source. She would wait for _that_ for once Quinn was single. Until then, she would make sure that Quinn remembered her. She brushed her thumb against Quinn's clit and felt the woman shudder beneath her. She grinned, smirking while she continued her ministrations.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for Quinn's climax. She came hard against Rachel's hand, the wetness coating the brunette's fingertips. She panted, shuddering breaths to try to regain her composure.

 _'For our final contestant, please welcome Officer Pussy'_ The announcer called backstage, breaking both women out of their ecstasy.

With a satisfied smirk, Rachel licked her fingers and stepped away retrieving her missing glove and nightstick before replacing the foam head on her shoulders.

"Break a leg." Quinn called after the retreating figure, proud of herself for just being able to find _any_ words while Rachel swayed her hips in a confident swagger.

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"You know, when I told you to break a leg, I didn't exactly think you would break Charlie's." Quinn noted.

"It's probably not broken, it is probably just sprained." Brittany noted, discretely re-watching the video she had taken of the fiasco. This was absolute gold. She was already planning out the exact techno beat to match the fight and finish off with their fall off the stage. But she was pretty certain that until Charlie had some pain killers in her, she wouldn't be able to appreciate the hilarity of the situation.

"How many times do I have to say that _I'm sorry?_ " Rachel held her face in her hands.

"Typical Rachel Berry." Santana fumed. "Can't handle losing so not only do you _handcuff_ me to my wife, you push us off the stage."

"It was a friendly nudge." Rachel defended. She didn't like to lose, and she didn't even _know_ it was Charlie until you congratulated her onstage.

"So you handcuffed them together?" Brittany tried to hide the mirth in her voice.

Quinn bristled at the accusation. "She was getting into _character_."

"Can we all just shut up for a minute?" Charlie grumbled. She was tired and hurt and where were the damn bolt cutters to get her and her wife apart?

Santana's lips curled up into a light snarl, annoyed that Charlie still hadn't gotten any pain medication. "Where is the fucking nurse?"

Charlie smirked at her wife's impatience, glad that at least one of them weren't feeling the gripping pain that she currently was. "Relax. I'm sure they are just waiting to get us apart so that they can run tests."

"Yeah, Santana, I don't remember you having a chronic shoulder injury. How was I supposed to know you would dislocate your shoulder?" Rachel defended.

"You _pushed_ us off the stage you pint-sized half-wit." Santana shook her head. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"Charlie _cheated._ Princess Fairy Sparkle Dust biased the judges." Rachel folded her arms. Sure, maybe she over-reacted but she had an _original character_. But she definitely didn't intend for Officer Pussy's actions to dislocate Santana's shoulder and turn Charlie's knee a terrible shade of black and blue.

"Charlie is still wearing a fucking unicorn costume." The blonde in the hospital bed groused. Santana sat beside her, her bad shoulder already in a sling despite their still handcuffed wrists. "So I think maybe pushing people offstage is cheating worse than stupid sparkly fairy dust."

"You beat me out of _fifteen thousand dollars_." Rachel pointed out. "The least you could do is apologize."

" _You_ want _me_ to apologize to _you_?" Santana clarified incredulously.

"Maybe we should just agree to disagree." Brittany placated.

Suddenly, a voice made her turn. "Hey guys." Blaine approached the group, smiling broadly despite the awkwardness of finding his soon to be ex-wife's family in the emergency room.

"Blaine." Charlie gritted her teeth at her former brother-in-law. "Tell me that you can get me some fucking drugs."

"There's one test I'd like to run, just to be on the safe side." Blaine smiled. Charlie had always been his favorite Fabray to deal with. He pulled her knee up to a ninety degree angle, smiling sympathetically at her wince of pain. Despite the inflammation, her leg did not pull forward. "Good news." He announced.

"Can there be good news?" Charlie groused. "I'm pretty sure this is the definition of not good news."

"It looks like your ACL is not torn so this is probably a really bad sprain. We can run some more tests, once we get you apart we can run an MRI—?"

"God no." Charlie shrugged off the concern. Santana eyed her wife with disapproval but made no comment. "If it's a sprain then I want to leave. As soon as possible."

"Charlie—" Quinn began with a sigh and a shake of her head. She thought her sister had long ago gotten over her distaste of doctors. She was married to a dentist for heaven's sake.

"Can I leave?"

"As soon as we get you two apart." Blaine assured. "You probably can get by with an anti-inflammatory and a mild dose of pain meds. You'll probably want to take it lightly for the next couple of weeks and it will be sore enough that you will want to keep off it completely for at least the next few days." Blaine informed.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Charlie cringed. "So, about those drugs?"

"I'll get someone to order that up." He promised. It was the least he could do for his soon-to-be-ex-wife's family. "It was nice to see you." He glanced over to Brittany but avoided her eyes. "You too, Britt. You look good."

Charlie's phone rang but the blonde made no move to answer it. Santana batted lightly at her with her good arm. "It could be your parents."

"All the more reason not to answer it." Charlie grumbled.

"It could be about the kids." Santana pointed out.

Charlie groaned but leaned forward, only to realize her phone was just far enough out of her reach that she couldn't get it. "It's too far." She whined.

Quinn rolled her eyes but answered the phone and placed it on speaker.

' _Charlie, it's your mother.'_

"Hi mom!" Charlie called, frowning when the wailing of her son floated over the line. "I'm at the hospital."

 _'Which one? What did Britta_ _ny do? Is everyone okay?'_

"Thanks Mom." Brittany rolled her eyes. Sometimes it sucked to be the baby of the family.

Charlie winced. "Sorry, you're on speaker. I tweaked my knee so Santana insisted we get it checked out."

 _'That is just another reason I adore your wife. You know, if it were Quinn and Noah_ — _'_

"I'm here too, Mom." Quinn spoke up, not wanting her mother to continue, especially with Rachel standing right next to her.

"What's wrong Judy?" Santana shifted and sat up straighter in the cot, wincing as the motion adjusted the strain on her shoulder. It wasn't her ideal situation, but it definitely could be worse. They could be dead.

Or they could be Quinn.

That would be way worse.

' _Jack won't settle down. I think he's cutting a tooth. Can you sing to him?'_

Charlie blushed, even with the aid of the painkillers she was coherent enough not to want anyone else to see.

"Mom, we're kind of busy."

' _For goodness sake, Charlotte. This is your son. His comfort should be your most important concern.'_

"She's worried because people are watching." Santana announced, loudly. The people in the other curtained areas turned to watch them discretely.

Charlie bristled defensively. "I am not."

' _Sing to your son Charlie.'_ Judy commanded.

Charlie sighed. She leaned closer to the phone and kept her voice low, pleading that there might be some way out of such a mess. "Hey Jack. Can you stop crying for Mama?"

The wails continued to scream over the line and so reluctantly, quietly at first, she began. _"I don't know dude. I think everyone's all jealous and shit 'cause I'm like the lead singer of a band, dude."_

She could hear Jack continue to wail on the other end and spoke up, singing more loudly and ignoring the shocked looks from her sisters. She didn't miss Brittany not-so-discretely pulling her phone back out of her pocket. Santana beside her started making bass guitar noises to go along with the lyrics. _"And I think everyone's got a fuckin' problem with me, and they need to take it up with me after the show, because."_

In a well-rehearsed switch, Santana took over, singing the chorus high and nasally. The brunette swayed softly to the music at the same time as Charlie dropped to background vocals. _"These chicks don't even know the name of my band, but they're all on me like they wanna hold hands, 'cause once I blow they know that I'll be the man, all because I'm the lead singer of my band."_

It might not have been so bad if Charlie could pretend she had a modicum of talent when it came to singing. Unfortunately, she had been born mildly tone deaf. When Quinn began to get involved in piano and singing lessons, Charlie tried to tag along only to find herself at a complete loss. As a kid, when Quinn spent hours practicing and refining her skills, Charlie spent her time outside either running around with Brittany or playing sports with the neighborhood kids.

But none of that mattered at three o'clock in the morning with a tired child. She and Santana had tried _everything_ but this was the only song that seemed to soothe Jack's distress. Even now she could hear the little guy hiccuping and cry less intently.

Charlie took a deep breath and took her next part, smirking as Santana bopped to what she supposed was the beat. _"So I get off stage right and drop the mic, walk up to the hot chicks and I'm all like, 'sup ladies, my name's Slim Shady. I'm the lead singer in D12 baby'."_

Santana lowered her voice and took over _, "They're all like 'Oh my God, it's him', 'Becky, oh my fucking God its Eminem.'_ Her voice went high again when she was mimicking the other 'women'.

Charlie and Santana continued like this. Switching off at pre-determined intervals, sometimes joining in and singing together, other times allowing one or the other to sing a few lines while the other backed them up with ridiculous noises or snide comments. They sang, with no concern to the people around them, oblivious to the many phones that had started recording from the beginning of the song. Instead, they sang the pre-rehearsed routine that had evolved from many nights of practice, focused only on the quieting cries coming from the telephone.

Brittany, Quinn and Rachel could only watch in complete and utter astonishment. Brittany wasn't sure if she was more disturbed that Santana and Charlie _knew_ this song, or that Judy was clearly aware that this was a part of the normal bedside routine.

Quinn was horrified that Charlie would deem _this_ song appropriate for their impressionable son. What type of mother could justify that? Charlie and Santana needed her more desperately than she ever could have imagined.

Rachel had no thoughts all, captivated by the fact that even after all of these years, dressed in nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt that bore the name of Fabray's Garage, Santana Lopez was one of the most captivating performers she had ever seen.

It wasn't fair.

Finally, they seemed to come up on the end of the song. Santana and Charlie sang together, _"My salsa makes all the pretty girls want to dance, and take off their underpants, my salsa."_

Charlie paused. _"Where'd everybody go?"_

Charlie and Santana both held their breaths, causing the others in the curtained area to do the same. Their child's cries had lessened throughout the song, but this moment was the one that determined everything. Either he had fallen asleep or they would have to do a repeat performance.

One night, they had to sing it four times before Jack fell asleep. Charlie wasn't sure she had ever hated Eminem more than that night.

' _He's asleep.'_ Judy confirmed in a hushed whisper, they could make out the sound of a little rustling and then a door shutting as well. _'Thank you.'_

"Thanks for watching him Judy." Santana whispered, for no other reason than that she didn't want the sound of her voice to carry and wake their child.

' _Just promise me that for my next grandchild you will find a more appropriate song. Maybe something from Katy Perry?'_

"Goodbye, mother." Charlie rolled her eyes and settled back onto her own cot, her arm extended as far as she could to keep Santana's shoulder immobile.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That?" Quinn enunciated every word. There was no way _that_ had just happened.

Charlie and Santana shared a look. Santana pressed the button for the nurse. "Can I get more pain killers?"

"YOU KNOW EMINEM!" Brittany squealed. This was incredible. Where had these women been all of her life?

Rachel attempted to smile politely. "Santana, I must admit that you are still a marvelous performer." She cleared her throat, "And Charlie, that was—well if you would ever like lessons I would be honored to take on the challenge."

"She sounds fine." Santana defended instantly.

Rachel's smile softened sympathetically, certain that it must be the painkillers that clouded Santana's judgment. "Sure." She patted Santana's legs patronizingly, under her breath she added. "For someone who is slightly tone deaf, I'm sure it's fine."

Brittany watched Blaine disappear behind another curtain. It wasn't _fair_. How could he just give up and call it quits? Why did he get to be the one to decide? They made promises to each other—vows. She wasn't about to give up. So why did he get to? What made him so special?

A nurse appeared the bolt cutters that they had been waiting for. He made short work of separating them and Charlie couldn't help but wonder what had taken so damn long. "Who is up for drinks?" Brittany asked, needing the liquor now more than ever.

"Me!" Charlie sat up, rubbing at her wrist. Delighted to be finally free. "Get me out of here."

"Over my dead body." Santana retorted, pushing her wife back down gently to the hospital bed. "You will get the tests Blaine recommends if I have to handcuff you to this bed and do them myself."

"Sorry, I have a quota. Only one handcuffing per day."

"Maybe that's why you and Santana are going through a rough patch." Rachel commented.

Brittany grinned. "Cool, you guys can stay here and the rest of us will go party. It will be like riding a bike without training wheels."

Charlie and Santana glared at her but Quinn and Rachel shrugged. "You realize it's already twelve-thirty in the morning?"

"It will be fun." Brittany promised. "Bars are better after midnight. Last call isn't until four."

The others grudgingly agreed but Brittany had to practically pull Quinn and Rachel out of the hospital and into a cab. Another night gone where she wouldn't have to worry about the fall of her marriage or the way Blaine had just given up.

This was going to be epic.


	4. Sunday

**SUNDAY**

 _"When you wake up, I'm going to do such dirty things to you."_ Santana heard her wife's voice whisper in her ear pulling her from a dreamless sleep.

The comment never failed to bring a smile to her lips. Even in the deepest grip of unconsciousness, Charlie could rouse her with a couple of words. "Only if I let you." She retorted, groaning as a flood of pain from her shoulder washed over her.

"I know, it hurts like fuck." Charlie slipped something into her hands that felt suspiciously like pain pills.

Not bothering to check, Santana swallowed them dry. Her eyes shot open and found her wife looking at her carefully. "What about your knee?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's fixed, I'm sure."

Santana looked down at the limb and gasped at the already deep purple swollen mess. They had spent hours waiting around for an MRI before being told that Charlie's knee was indeed just a sprain and had only made it back to the hotel a few hours before. Charlie's hair was flattened on one side, the other sticking nearly straight up in the air. "You look terrible!"

"Thanks." Charlie frowned and tried to flatten her bed-head. "You don't look much better."

Santana winced, well aware that her own shoulder probably looked gross. "Why the hell did you let your sisters convince us to do something stupid, _again._ "

"It wasn't my idea to cater to Brittany, _again_."

Santana blinked at her wife. "Seriously. It wasn't mine either. Your _parents_ and _sisters_ showed up on our porch. What was I supposed to do?"

"Tell them to leave us the hell alone." Charlie groused.

"She's your sister." Santana rolled her eyes, perfectly aware that Charlie would have gone along with whatever Brittany's plan was anyway. "But we should have been done _yesterday_ when I discovered new holes in my body."

"We are fifteen thousand dollars richer." Charlie pointed out. She was tired and in pain and probably far more cranky than she should be. And Santana's 'new holes' were hot, so what the fuck was she complaining about?

"Probably only half of that after taxes." Santana retorted.

Charlie shook her head. "Still, even seven thousand bucks is a lot of money. I don't know why you're complaining."

"I'm not complaining, I'm just way too old to be running around drunk off my ass like a twenty-two year old co-ed."

"Maybe that's part of the problem." The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Santana stepped back. " _Excuse_ me?"

Charlie winced. "That came out wrong." She shook her head and tried to stick to the point. "I just mean, what's wrong with having a little fun? Maybe Quinn and Britt are right. We could use a little excitement. We have been stuck in a rut a little."

"Excitement?" Santana scoffed. "Your sister sent us to a furry convention. If that is your definition of a little excitement then—"

"It was _your_ ex-girlfriend who maimed us." Charlie retorted, cutting Santana off before she could finish.

Santana prickled. She hated being interrupted. " _My_ ex-girlfriend is only hanging out with us this weekend because _your_ sister is an obsessed eleven year old fan-girl."

"My sister is an idiot." Charlie allowed without hesitation. "But she's only acting like a fan-girl because your ex-girlfriend is _Rachel Fucking Berry_."

"As opposed to what? The literally hundreds of women you have slept with?"

"Not all of us can be virgins from po-dunk Ohio."

A knock sounded at their hotel room door, silencing the fight. Both knew it was far from over, but neither was willing to continue it with an audience. Santana hobbled to the door, her ankle still sore and swollen from the day before to find Quinn, Brittany, and Rachel standing expectantly in the doorway.

Quinn pushed past Santana and addressed her sister. "What should we do today?"

Charlie narrowed her eyes, watching her wife for any sort of wince as a result of Quinn's exuberance. Seeing none, she sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "I don't think I can take anymore of your fun."

Her wife nodded and chuckled lowly, glad that at least about this they were both in agreement. "Me neither. Maybe we just go home and tell your parents thank you?"

"No!" Brittany insisted, not willing to let go of this weekend. Last night had been far from 'epic'. Maybe she had cursed them by thinking it would be. Quinn and Rachel had just talked most of the night, eventually both claiming they were too tired. She had then listened to a nearly ten minute exchange of how wonderful it was that they had rooms at the same hotel. It almost made her miss Charlie and Santana—almost. "You can't do that yet. You don't have to get back until tomorrow."

Charlie rolled her eyes, and pointed to her leg " _This_ is what happens when we try to have fun. I think I have had enough to last a lifetime."

Rachel looked back and forth between the others. Waking up with Quinn next to her had been the best moment of her life. But now Quinn was acting skittish and if it wasn't for a drunken promise from last night that she only hazily remembered, and Quinn's insistence from Friday night, she might bid the group adieu.

But if something could work out with Quinn, maybe things would be okay.

Maybe she didn't need Finn after all.

"What if we did something more relaxed. We could go to a spa?" She offered. Seeing Santana's skepticism she hurriedly added, "My treat."

"That sounds like fun." Quinn responded immediately, then seemed to blush and shake her head. "I mean, if everybody else wants to."

Brittany laughed and threw her arms around her sister. Delighted that their time was not going to meet some premature end. Also, she filed this moment away for when she needed good teasing material. Quinn was whipped and she didn't even really _know_ Rachel. It was hilarious. "If it means that I don't have to go back to Mom and Dad's until tomorrow, it sounds perfect."

Santana grabbed Charlie's crutches and helped her wife to her feet. "It sounds like torture." She muttered. "But—"

"We'll do it." Charlie insisted, giving Santana a look.

It took them longer than any of them would have liked to make it to the elevator and the waiting cab. With Charlie on crutches and Santana hobbling along after her, they looked more like a funeral party than a group ready for the next adventure. Eventually, they made their way to the exclusive spa Rachel had heard about and made their reservations.

"Maybe we can split up too, and spend some quality time together?" Quinn suggested.

Charlie arched her brow. "Fine, Santana and I will go together—"

"No!" Quinn cleared her throat. "I mean, I thought maybe we could spend time as sisters—"

Brittany pulled a face and Charlie just watched her sister. "You want me, to send my wife to spend time with _her_ ex-girlfriend and get a couple's massage?"

Quinn frowned. When she put it that way, "Okay, maybe we all stick together then."

"Great idea." Rachel beamed, feeling a sense of relief when Quinn blushed at the praise.

Maybe everything would be okay after all.

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It didn't take long for them to get situated within the spa. Despite Rachel's insistence on paying for it, Santana grumbled that they each would pay for themselves, unwilling to accept her ex-girlfriend's charity. They were led to a small room where the massages would later take place. Each received a facial, and though Charlie was initially a little hesitant at how the greenish goop would feel, she found that she didn't mind it so much.

What she _did_ mind was Rachel's phone going on every five minutes.

"Can you just answer it?" She asked after the second time. She couldn't take that ring tone anymore

Brittany groaned. "Yeah, this is supposed to be relaxing."

"You don't have to answer it if you don't want to." Quinn assured Rachel.

Rachel beamed at the support.

"Just answer the damn phone."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed that after so long Santana could still boss her around. Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe Santana was incredibly bossy.

"What do you need Finn?" She didn't bother to hide her irritation at the caller.

 _'You answered.'_ She could practically hear his grin. _'That means you forgive me, right?'_

"No Finn, I do not forgive you."

 _'Why not?'_

"Why not?" She scoffed. "Do you _really_ need to ask me that?"

 _'Well I said I was sorry.'_

She couldn't believe this. "I don't care. I'm busy."

 _'Where are you?'_ He asked, and she could almost hear the annoyance in his voice. _'I'll come and get you.'_

She bristled. What right did he have to try to control her like this? "With Santana. I don't need you to come and get me. I'm just fine on my own."

 _'Santana? That bitch from before we were together?'_

"Yes, the bitch I _cheated_ on to be with _you_. Did you know she's happily married? With kids?"

 _'She sounds boring.'_

"I am sitting right here." Santana held up her hands and pulled the cucumbers off her eyes. "Leave me out of this." She glanced over to see Charlie munching on the fruit. She hissed, throwing her arm out to get her wife's attention. "Stop that."

"What?" Charlie asked her defensively. "I'm _hungry_."

"We'll get lunch later." Santana promised.

Quinn frowned, how _dare_ Santana tell Charlie what to do? She wasn't some dictator that Charlie had to listen to. Charlie was a grown up woman who could make her own choices. "You don't have to listen to her." Quinn murmured when Santana turned away and relaxed against the comfortable bed.

Charlie scoffed. "They weren't that good anyway." She shrugged.

"No, Finn!" Rachel shook her head. "It's not just that you cheated, it's that you seem to have no remorse for it."

 _'I feel bad about it, if that's what you mean.'_

"You feel bad because you got caught." Rachel couldn't believe this. "It is bad enough that you slept with someone else. But you didn't even wear a condom!"

 _'It's fine, she_ —'

"It's not fine. Don't call me anymore, I've moved on." She said with finality.

Quinn smiled. "You have?"

Rachel blushed but turned to her ex-girlfriend. "Santana, if this is even a fraction of what you felt when we terminated our relationship, I have to apologize. The sting of betrayal is so sharp, I never had considered how my actions may have made you feel."

Santana remained un-moving on the bed, her chest rising and falling evenly.

"Santana?"

Charlie smirked. Sure, it was petty. But seeing Rachel knocked down a peg was definitely worth it.

"Did you fall asleep?" Rachel huffed and stomped her foot. Honestly. No wonder she and Santana hadn't been able to work it out. She slid off her own massage bed and walked up to the other woman. She pulled Santana's ear, the only practiced way she knew to rouse Santana from a nap.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Santana plucked the cucumbers from covering her eyes.

"You weren't listening to me!" Rachel defended.

"In case you didn't notice, we're supposed to be _relaxing_. Not paying attention to the 'greatest thing that ever happened to acting'." Santana mocked, rubbing her ear. This was all too familiar, and it was a little weird to argue like this.

Rachel huffed. "I'm trying to apologize!"

"Oh." Santana sat up straighter, then furrowed her brow. "For what?"

Rachel's jaw dropped. "For breaking your heart, betraying your trust. I have had the bitter taste of karma remind me that sometimes the deepest betrayals can never be forgiven—"

"Rachel." Santana tried to interrupt, but the actress was on a role.

"—however, I will do my very best to regain your trust even if we can never rekindle our romantic relationship—"

"Rachel!" Santana nearly shouted, stopping the rant before it could get more awkward. "Look. Did you hurt me? Yes. But honestly, it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me."

Rachel blinked in disbelief. That wasn't possible.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Do you _actually_ think we would have lasted any longer in our relationship? By the end, we were just holding on because that's what everybody expected from us."

"We were happy—you were happy." Rachel pointed out.

"No. I wasn't." She shook her head. "And if we had stayed together, you would have resented me for holding you back. I was _miserable_ in the acting program. I never would have had the courage to leave if you hadn't been with Finn."

"So I helped you." Rachel brightened at the thought.

Santana gritted her teeth. "That's what you get out of this? No Rachel, you didn't do me any favors. You betrayed me. You hurt me worse than anyone ever has. But I got over it. I met Charlie that same day and we've been married for seven years. I got over _you_ and I am so much better for it."

Quinn did the math, ticking her fingers as she counted backward. "Seven? You've only been married for _six_ years." She huffed. What woman didn't know how long they had been married.

Charlie and Santana shared a glance. "Right." Santana nodded slowly. "Six years, whatever."

Brittany, however, noticed the exchanged and poked her sister. "Whatever?" She asked.

Charlie looked at Santana for help but her wife was busy staring down Rachel as if daring her to continue. She shrugged and glanced at the bowl situated between herself and her wife. Slowly reaching for another cucumber, she nodded only to have her hand slapped by Santana without the brunette ever deviating her gaze.

Quinn looked between the two of them, waiting for an explanation. Finding none she growled and threw up her hands. "You two are ridiculous. There is _no way_ you eloped without telling mom and dad."

"Mom and Dad?" Charlie scoffed. "They were our witnesses. _You_ were the one we wanted to keep from going all crazy jealous."

"I DO NOT GET CRAZY JEALOUS." Quinn screamed. Taking a few deep breaths, she realized how that looked. "But your wedding was beautiful."

"And big, and traditional, and _not_ planned by us." Santana noted. "So excuse us for doing something for ourselves."

Charlie grinned at the memory. Their real wedding had been perfect. Small, with just her and Santana's parents and Dani at the diner where they met. The second had been an extravagant affair, the wedding of the decade as Quinn had dubbed it, with nearly a thousand people.

She had always been grateful during that circus that she could remember the way that Santana looked at their real wedding, in jeans and a t-shirt.

That had been perfect.

She snuck a couple more slices of cucumber and wondered when she could take the gunk off her face.

Why would people do this, on purpose?

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"We only have three pedicure seats available together. There are two on the other side of the room." The blonde manager of the floor informed them.

Santana glanced down at the name tag. "Listen, _Kitty_ —"

"That will be perfect." Quinn answered for them.

Santana bit her lip, feeling her irritation grow. "I'm _not_ sitting by Rachel. And Charlie is _not_ hobbling all the way over there."

"What are you, five?" Quinn retorted. "It's just a couple of hours. Or can you not stand to be away from Charlie that long? Who else would be your whipping girl?"

Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Quinn, back off." Charlie spoke up, more concerned that her wife was going to _kill_ Quinn than anything else.

"Why don't Santana and I take the seats over there?" Brittany offered, not really wanting to spend anymore time with Rachel either. "Then you three can stay here?"

Charlie groaned, but didn't really see the point in arguing. Quinn had her mind set on something so she might as well go along with it. "Sure."

Quinn blanched but had lost her pretense to slip away from Rachel. It wasn't that she wanted to get away from the other woman—it was—well—she was freaking out. She wasn't gay. That was Charlie. Charlie had known from the time she was six that she wanted to marry a woman so it came as no shock when she came out to their family around their junior year.

She was too old for gay panic.

She was fine.

She was just—okay, she was definitely panicking.

Santana and Brittany made their way to the available chairs.

Quinn practically tossed Charlie into the open chair that was in the middle as a barrier between Rachel and herself.

Meanwhile across the room, Brittany was bemoaning her lost relationship yet again. "I was just so surprised to find Blaine—"

Santana was done. This is all Brittany wanted to talk about. She could see her wife shift uncomfortably as Quinn probably placed another undercutting barb. "Were you _really_ surprised? _Really_? All the times he wanted to do butt stuff—"

"Butt stuff." Brittany snorted. That sounded ridiculous.

Santana continued. "None of that gave you any idea—"

"No!" Brittany shook her head. "I mean, sure he checked out other guys at the beach or at the gym and he liked to be penetrated, but what guy doesn't—"

"Straight guys." Santana explained slowly. "Straight guys don't check out guys at the gym."

Brittany scoffed. "No—"

"She's right, honey." The man at her feet remarked, picking up her left foot to begin with the sugar scrub. Brittany squinted at the name tag, _Kurt._

Brittany frowned thoughtfully. "He was gay."

"Super gay." Santana agreed.

"Flaming." The man nodded honestly.

"I mean, he could only have an erection after I penetrated him." Suddenly, this was all making a sick sort of sense. "I can't believe it. He was _gay."_

"Okay." Santana held up her hand. "That is more than I ever needed to know."

"But I loved him." Brittany shook her head.

"Did you?" Santana asked. Normally she probably would just nod and accept the answer. But she had spent the last couple of days being maimed and bruised in the name of letting Brittany keep her mind off things. She was done.

Just then a woman— _Lauren_ if the tag was right—stepped up to Santana to start for herself. Santana looked at the woman seriously. "I am very ticklish."

Lauren shrugged. "Most people are."

"It's ridiculous, so just be prepared and don't let me kick you in the face." Santana warned.

"If you kick me in the face, I'll break your ankle." Lauren commented, poking the still swollen and bruised flesh. "Otherwise I'll be super gentle."

"Thank you."

Brittany watched the interchange with amusement. "Why get pedicures if you are super ticklish?" She asked, smirking when Santana clenched the arm rests in a white knuckled grip.

Santana bit her lip while they ran the pumice stone along the bottom of her feet and scrubbed heavily, biting her lip hard to keep from laughing like an idiot. Finally, Lauren seemed to be done with the worst part and she took a deep breath. "What did you say?"

Santana opened her eyes to cast a glance at her wife who had clearly been watching the debacle. She frowned when Charlie blushed a little and waved away something that Quinn was saying. Quinn sometimes forgot that Charlie wasn't her punching bag. Charlie was capable of taking care of herself, but Santana still didn't like it.

"Why get pedicures if you are ticklish?" Brittany repeated.

"What else was I going to do?" Santana questioned. "Charlie wanted to spend time with you and Quinn. I wasn't about to stand in her way. Even now, she might not admit it, but she would have been really disappointed to miss out on this."

"Really?" Brittany couldn't quite believe it. "She doesn't seem to care when Quinn and I go do stuff."

"Yeah, but what is she supposed to say? Oh guys, don't leave me out?" Santana scoffed. "Please. You should know Charlie better than that."

Brittany frowned. "I don't get it. So why not stay home while she came out with us. You clearly haven't been having a good time."

"Are you kidding?" Santana snorted. "I got my nipples pierced. _Of course_ I am not having a good time." She sighed and then, after really thinking about it for a moment decided that Brittany was maybe looking for the truth. "I know you think we're boring and co-dependent."

"Well I did." Brittany admitted. "Then you told me you had a three-some and eloped. So maybe I didn't have all the facts."

"Maybe not." She agreed.

Brittany frowned when she thought about it. All this time, they had been mocking Santana's marriage and yet, the more she saw, the more she realized that maybe this was the type of relationship she had wanted all along. "How did you know that Charlie was the one?"

"I just—" Santana trailed off, really thinking about it. "I wanted to take out the garbage."

"Look, if you aren't going to take this seriously, then never mind."

"No seriously. I've never been one to worry about crap like that, but Charlie hates taking out the garbage. That's when I realized that she was it for me. Even if it was hard or annoying, I wanted to take out the garbage so that she didn't have to."

"I don't think I understand."

"I don't know that I do either." Santana replied honestly. "But I would rather spend hours listening to Charlie debate the benefits of a V6 or V8 engine over spending fifteen minutes by myself. I think that's what love—what marriage is about." She smiled sardonically. "I would rather have a bunch of crazy memories with her, even if those crazy memories are just stupid and simple, than anything else in this world. Whether it's a weekend with her sisters or just sitting together having dinner while watching TV, the only regrets I will ever have in life are the moments I wasn't with her."

"That was—" She wanted to say nice or idealist, but instead settled for, "super cheesy."

"I saw it on some show." Santana shrugged. "But it's still true."

"Sure." Brittany scoffed, thinking it over. She definitely hadn't ever felt that with Blaine. He definitely hadn't spent the time to look over various art pieces from other painters she admired. They had just sort of lived their lives independently. Every so often, they had sex. She had thought they were happy, but she hadn't really ever considered what a happy marriage meant.

Maybe that was the problem.

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A few hours later, the group found themselves seated at the manicure tables. Quinn had decided that Charlie no longer needed to be the buffer between her and Rachel and had whisked the other woman off to sit beside her.

Good riddance. Charlie thought with a smirk, wincing when the woman in front of her started clipping skin around her nails.

"You should pay me double." The manicurist grumbled.

Charlie looked over at Santana for an idea on what the appropriate response should be. "Uh, sorry?"

"You see how I have to dig out the dirt and oil?" The woman—Sue—pointed to the towel that she was scraping the black gunk from Charlie's nails onto. "I will do a good job for you, heaven knows you don't deserve it—but you should pay me double. Triple even."

"So..." Charlie noticed that Brittany next to her was trying not to laugh. "You are going to charge me extra?"

"No." She shook her head. "But you should pay me extra."

"I'm a mechanic." She offered, hoping that sounded enough like an apology to keep the other woman from commenting on it every five seconds.

"Wear gloves." She retorted, then muttered under her breath. "Idiot."

"Okay." Charlie winced. "Just make them look nice."

The woman eyed her closely. "I know just the thing."

Charlie shrugged. It didn't really matter to her either way.

She fidgeted and tried not to show her discomfort at the manicure. She wasn't exactly the manicure type person, but Santana seemed to be enjoying this. Maybe it wasn't that bad? Quinn and Rachel were engaged in some whispered intense discussion across from her while Santana watched her own manicurist like a hawk. Eventually Sue declared her nails to be completed. She glanced down, unimpressed. It kind of looked like her nails were normal, except they were more...plasticy?

She didn't really understand why people did this. But hey, at least now they could get some lunch.

Glancing down at the clock, she realized that it was more likely they would be grabbing dinner. She approached her wife who was currently standing at the reception desk, reading over something carefully.

"She said I should pay her double." She whispered to Santana who was apparently looking over their bill. "So, like, do I tip her?"

"Did she do a good job?" Santana asked without looking up.

Charlie held out her fingers for inspection. "Sure?"

Santana snorted at the sight. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?" Charlie looked down at her hands, wondering what was wrong. "I thought they looked nice."

"Acrylic french tipped nails?" Santana scoffed, then narrowed her eyes at the bill in disbelief. "Did you ask her for that, or did Brittany suggest it?"

"Um," Charlie rubbed the back of her neck thoughtfully. "I don't know."

"Charlie, you're a mechanic. Those are like—" Santana took a deep breath. Not only did her wife have chipped nails all the time, she bit her nails when she was nervous. An acrylic manicure for her was literally pouring money down the drain, not to mention a block on their sex life.

"Just because she's a mechanic doesn't mean she can't get what she likes." Quinn defended.

Santana counted to ten in her head then, when her irritation didn't lessen, she just kept going. She reached eighty seven before she finally sighed. "I didn't mean that, they do look nice." She eyed her wife to see if she had indeed hurt her feelings. "I just meant, that you will have a lot of upkeep and that doesn't seem like something you would want."

"Oh." Charlie nodded thoughtfully and picked at her nails. "That sucks."

Santana nodded, her eyes wide like she expected Charlie to notice something else that was wrong about her selection.

"What?" Charlie asked after a moment.

"We're lesbians. Think about it."

Charlie looked down at her hands, then back up at her wife, then down at her hands again in confusion. Suddenly it dawned on her. "Get these fucking things off of me." She stomped back to the table where Sue was cleaning up.

Quinn watched the interchange with unfiltered disgust.

Santana was just like Puck. Anytime she wanted anything, sex was the bargaining chip. Was Santana so controlling that she couldn't let Charlie have the manicure she wanted?

Someone had to put a stop to her.

"I can't believe that."

"I know, right?" Santana sighed and shook her head. "The ridiculous—"

"I can't believe that you are so abusive of my sister." Quinn stepped forward, encroaching on Santana's space.

Santana gulped down her annoyance at being interrupted. "Abusive? What in the world are you talking about?"

"You control her every move! I should call the cops on you." Quinn put both her hands up and pushed against Santana's shoulders. Santana hissed in pain, her sore shoulder protesting at the contact.

"Damn it." She stepped back aware that although Rachel was uselessly watching the altercation, Brittany had slipped away to get Charlie. Or at least she hoped that's what she was doing. "I should call the cops on _you_ for assault."

"Controlling behavior. Uneven power dynamics. It's _textbook_ emotional abuse." Quinn ran her hand through her hair. "I can't believe I didn't see it before."

Santana's eyes narrowed. "You didn't 'see it before' because there was nothing to see. I may be a bitch, but I'm not a bitch to Charlie."

"It seems like you like keeping Charlie as _your_ bitch, though. Rachel said how much you liked being on top so I guess I'm not surprised—"

Santana saw red. All weekend she had been biting her tongue, avoiding pointing out how utterly selfish it was for Quinn to insist Rachel follow them around like some rescued pet. She lunged forward only to feel strong arms surround her waist. "Babe, please don't kill my twin. I need her for spare parts." Charlie joked, trying to relieve the tension.

Quinn couldn't take it anymore. Charlie used to be _hers_. And now she was, what? Coming in second place? Behind _Santana_?

"No." Santana pulled against her wife's hold. "She thinks I'm abusing you!"

"What the hell, Quinn?" Charlie was tempted to loosen her hold on Santana, but held on tightly. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"My _problem_ is that she's changed you. You used to _be_ something Charlie! She treats you like a child." Quinn shook her head and took another menacing step toward Santana. "What happened to _you_?"

"Oh, like you're any better?" Santana scoffed. "You keep Puck's leash so tightly twisted around your little finger that—"

"Can you make decisions for yourself? Or do you have to wait for Santana to tell you what to do?" Quinn interrupted, ignoring Santana and keeping her eyes focused on her twin.

Charlie went to answer but Santana was too quick. "Of course she doesn't have to wait for me to tell her what to do. She's a grown ass adult. At least _she_ acts like it."

"Oh does she?" Quinn retorted, sneering.

Santana struggled harder and Charlie felt her cheeks flush. "We're a team." Charlie defended, not really appreciating that Quinn was publicly trying to shame her wife. She was mortified that people seemed to be on their phones, watching with rapt attention. "So no, I can't go buy a motorcycle because I feel like it. But—"

"But _nothing!"_ Quinn threw up her hands in disgust. "You work hard for your money—you shouldn't have to cater to the whims of some bully just because she tricked you into marrying her."

"Tricked her—" Santana scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Quinn ignored her and continued. "You used to tell me everything in detail. We talked every day. And then, all of the sudden, you shut me out!"

"I only told you stuff to gross you out." Charlie retorted.

"You pulled away. You owe me—"

"Just because mom made us share a room our entire lives doesn't mean I owe you _anything._ " Charlie felt Santana's struggling stop and loosened her grip. "I mean, what is wrong with you? Was the womb not enough? I'm _married!_ "

"Guys, maybe we should all calm down." Rachel suggested. She had been quietly watching to support Quinn, but she had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to end well.

"Are we really arguing over the fact that Charlie got a manicure?" Brittany pointed out.

"It was a stupid manicure." Santana grumbled, apparently the only one of the arguing three that had heard them.

"I'm married too." Quinn huffed. "But you don't see me following Noah around like a little lost puppy."

"Yeah, because you _hate_ him. Face it princess, you are jealous that Charlie and I are happier than you and Puck." Santana spat.

With that, Quinn lunged forward and pushed Santana with all her might causing the other woman to fall to the ground. The others stood still in shock. Quinn lifted balled her fist and punched hard and fast—just like Charlie had taught her when they were kids and felt her knuckles connect with Santana's nose.

"You stupid bitch!" Charlie regained her composure and lunged forward, tackling her twin. She winced and cried out as she pulled her knee again. "You just _have_ to cause a scene." She pushed against Quinn and stood hopping on one foot to avoid putting weight on her knee. "Her shoulder is fucking hurt. You idiot."

Santana wiped at the blood seeping out of her nose. She was pretty sure it wasn't broken but she would worry about that later. For now, she was tired of Quinn questioning Charlie's every decision. The very _idea_ that she could hurt Charlie was offensive to her very core. Mindful of her shoulder, she waited until Charlie's back was turned and sucker punched Quinn.

Quinn shrieked in pain. "You broke my nose!"

"Good!" Santana grinned.

Quinn went to retaliate only to have Brittany step between them, blocking her path. "Get out of my way."

"No! You are being ridiculous. What the hell did Santana ever do to you?"

Quinn cursed and tried to evade her sister. But Brittany had danced and played basketball through her childhood and refused to let Quinn past. Behind her, Charlie hobbled over to her wife. "Did you really have to sucker punch her?"

"Yes. I just wish I could have done more. She deserved it." Santana insisted, worriedly running her fingers along her wife's bad knee.

"She did." Charlie laughed, wincing at the contact.

Quinn cradled her nose. "Sure, I deserved it. I just spoke out against what a terrible—"

Santana lunged and Charlie held her back. "Seriously?" Brittany asked her sister, shaking her head. "You need to back off."

"What's going on here?" A uniformed officer stepped into the lobby.

Brittany's jaw dropped. He was _hot._ He was tall, with dark eyes and a strong, lean muscular frame. He bore a name tag that identified him as Officer Chang.

"What's _'going on_ ' is that my sister's wife is controlling and constantly belittling her wife. Someone has to put a stop to it."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana lunged for Quinn again.

"Hey." Officer Chang stepped between them, joining Brittany in the center of the fray. "That's enough."

"Oh yeah, that's right, just take her side!" Quinn huffed. She pushed the officer harshly. "Stupid mall cop."

Officer Chang's eyes narrowed and Brittany winced. "Ma'am, I'm going to ask you to calm down."

"Ma'am?" Quinn pushed him again. "You think I'm old enough to be called Ma'am." She thrust her arms against his chest and pushed.

The officer grabbed her left wrist and in a practiced move twisted her hand down behind her back, slapping the handcuffs on her wrist. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."

"Are you kidding me? You should arrest _her!_ " She didn't fight the cuffs but only felt her fury grow as he continued to recite the standard warnings. How was this fair? Santana had ruined everything, and yet again she was the one getting off freely. "Look at my sister. Her wife did that!"

Officer Chang arched his brow and looked at the couple, only to have the brunette fight against the other blonde and break free from the blonde's grasp. "You think I'm hitting her? I'll show you how hard I can hit!"

He reacted quickly, spurred by years of training and blocked the brunette, grabbing her right hand and pulling it behind her back and reaching for his spare zip ties.

Santana cried out when he pulled against her bad shoulder tying her hands behind her back. "Fuck that hurts."

"Be careful with her." Charlie didn't think before she acted, lunging for the man hurting her wife.

Officer Chang dodged the attack swiftly, subduing his new attacker before radioing for backup. He hadn't been expecting a disturbance call to turn into a large bust.

"Are you happy with yourself?" Santana rolled her eyes. "This is a whole new level of embarrassing."

"Of course I am not happy with myself." Quinn spat. "But someone has to stop you."

"Would you two shut up?" Charlie hissed. "They told us we had the right to remain silent. We are _supposed_ to remain silent."

"Listen, officer, this has just been a huge misunderstanding." Brittany laughed at the sight of her twin sisters and sister-in-law pouting while they sat restrained on the floor of the upscale spa. She could make this better. He was hot, she was hot, maybe she could get him to let them go once everybody calmed down.

But knowing Quinn and Santana, that would take forever.

Officer Chang took a deep breath and ran his hands through his short clipped hair. "I can't just ignore that these two tried to assault an officer." He pinched the bridge of his nose. This really was going to be a whole lot of paperwork. He wasn't looking forward to it.

"What do you have, Chang?" A new voice joined the others. This time, a woman strode up toward them purposefully.

He sighed. "I think it's just a spat that got out of hand, Jones."

"Yeah." Brittany nodded, grinning broadly and rubbing her hand down Officer Chang's arms. "It absolutely got out of hand."

Officer Jones quirked an eyebrow.

"Brittany, knock it off." Santana could see where this train of thought would take them and it wouldn't exactly be helpful. "They are going to think—"

"Go ahead Santana, why don't you tell another Fabray what to do. You are so damn bossy!" Quinn interrupted.

"Shut _up._ " Charlie hissed again.

"If we can just forget this whole thing happened, I know my father would be really pleased. You know, Russell Fabray of Fabray Corp? I'm sure he would make a sizeable donation to your precinct—"

Santana groaned. "Now you've done it."

"Ma'am," The woman stepped forward. "I'm going to have to ask you to put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent—"

"Wait, what?" Brittany stopped, totally flabbergasted.

"Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, an attorney will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights?"

"Yeah, but—what? What am I being arrested for?"

"For attempting to bribe an officer." Officer Jones pulled the cuffs tight against Brittany's wrist.

"Does anyone listen to Santana? _No!_ " The brunette scoffed, talking to herself. "Why would Santana know anything?"

Rachel huffed. She wasn't about be left behind again. First Santana, now Finn, each time she had been left behind while they created new dreams and goals that they didn't share with her. Not this time. Not with Quinn. "Excuse me Officers, I would like to be arrested as well."

"Oh great." Charlie rolled her eyes. What was so great about Rachel that had Quinn falling all over herself? It had taken Santana _months_ to get over her. And she was this self-absorbed?

The Officers exchanged a glance. "Sorry, but we don't just go around arresting people."

"Why don't you just run along and you can meet us at the precinct once this has all been sorted out?" Officer Jones suggested.

Rachel's gaze hardened. "No. I _demand_ you arrest me at once." She declared.

"Rachel—" Santana warned.

"No." The Officer crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't have to listen to your demands. I _don't_ arrest people for no reason."

Rachel stomped her foot gruffly. She looked around until her eyes settled on the large water dispenser. These incompetent officers wouldn't arrest her? Then she would find something worthy of arrest. Grabbing the glass, she flung the fancy item onto the floor. "There!"

Sue clamored forward, pushing past the growing crowd. "Do you have any idea how much that cost?"

Rachel beamed, proud of accomplishing her objective. "Arrest me now."

Officer Chang shook his head. "Fine, you get your wish."

Santana rolled her eyes. Typical.

Could this weekend get any worse?

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

"I know how hard it can be to go through a breakup." Officer Chang assured, leading Santana back to the holding cell. She had just talked to her dental assistant, who after laughing had promised he would be there as soon as possible. "My girlfriend just broke up with me a few weeks ago."

Santana rubbed the back of her neck with her good arm. "That sucks." She nodded, "but we're sorry for letting it get out of hand. Brittany was just so devastated, we were trying to keep her mind off it."

Officer Chang shrugged. "I don't think anyone really meant any harm. She seems nice."

"You mean when she's not trying to sneak her way into your pants?" Santana scoffed.

He blushed. "Yeah, she's very attractive."

Santana took note. It might be too soon, but this could be a good sign.

He guided her back toward the cell, opening the door to let Santana back inside. "This may—uh—sound unprofessional. But do you think I could get your autograph?"

She looked at him, pausing in the door. "Uh—Sure?"

"It's just—" He blushed again. "You guys are all super famous right now."

"Famous?" Rachel brightened. Sure she was a star, but no one had ever called her famous.

"Well not you," Mike explained, narrowing his eyes. "Actually, I have no idea who you are."

"No _idea_?" She scoffed at the very idea.

"Yeah. Sorry. Who are you again?"

She bristled. "I am Rachel Berry, and if you don't know me, then—"

"Well you're Santana and Charlie Lopez, right? From the video?"

"What video?" Quinn queried.

Officer Chang pulled out his phone and found a video on youtube for Charlie and Santana to see. They watched, with growing horror as the scene from the night before replayed on the device. There, for the entire world to see was Santana and Charlie singing and dancing to sing their son to sleep.

"You've got to be kidding me." Santana groaned. Her parents were going to kill her.

"This has over seventeen million views." Charlie pointed out.

"Yeah, everybody has been talking about it." Officer Chang rubbed the back of his neck, catching Brittany's eye and then looking away quickly.

Rachel huffed and grabbed the phone in disbelief, scrolling down to look at the comments.

Youtube comments were hardly ever positive.

It wasn't going to be that big of a deal.

Except for _these_ youtube comments were almost universally positive.

 _'Get these two a TV show, that was brilliant!'_

 _'The blonde one is hot.'_

 _'I bet the brunette is a stripper.'_

 _'They sing this to their son? These are the coolest moms ever!'_

 _'r u 2 looking for a 3-sum?'_

Rachel stomped her foot. "I can't believe this! This is like the commercial all over again."

"Excuse me?"

"You just aren't satisfied with my success. You have to _steal_ it? After all of these years, you are still so juvenile that you would do this just to best me?"

"I have no idea what you're—"

"We were singing to our son." Charlie interrupted her wife, incredulous at the idea that they _wanted_ people to see their nightly routine.

Quinn stepped up, still bristling from their earlier argument and wanting to support Rachel. "This is all _your_ fault." She spat toward Santana.

"My fault?" Santana stepped back incredulously. "It was your idea to have this stupid weekend anyway. How is this my fault?"

"Charlie was _normal_ before she met you. Now she's just—she's just _boring_."

"Newsflash Princess, Charlie was _never_ normal."

"She was before she met you." Quinn retorted. "Then you came along and you broke her!"

" _I_ broke her?" Santana spat, pushing Charlie's hands away when her wife tried to calm her down. "By what? Loving her?"

"She was going to work for NASA, to chase her dreams." Quinn stepped into Santana's space and pushed her hands against the shorter woman's shoulders. "But _you_ decided your dreams were more important."

Santana stepped forward, pushing Quinn in turn. "Is that right?" She sneered. "Are you sure you aren't projecting? You—"

"Santana—you should stop." Brittany tried to interject. "Quinn doesn't mean—"

"Please." Santana pushed at Quinn again. "You think I don't know that you'd rather sleep with a sack of potatoes than your husband? You hate him Quinn, and he deserves better! If you think—"

"Oh, you mean like _Charlie_ deserves better?" Quinn pushed back.

"I am so sick of you Fabrays and your fucking interrupting me!" Santana exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "This is ridiculous! If you hate your life so much, fix it. But leave Charlie and me alone!"

"I would, but I know she's miserable." Quinn spat back, ignoring the betrayed look her twin shot her.

"And how would you possibly know Lucy?" Santana mocked pointedly. "Because you are psychic? News flash! Not everything is about you."

"I never said it was."

"Look around!" Santana gestured emphatically. "We're stuck in fucking jail because you couldn't figure out your shit. If you like Rachel, gross. But just be happy already and stop complaining about it!"

"Everybody complains." Quinn dismissed easily.

"Not as much as you do." Santana retorted.

Quinn bit her lip, furious. Normally, she had enough presence of mind to filter her anger, but she was beyond reason. "You mean like when Charlie complained to me that she was worried you were rushing things?" Quinn watched as the blow landed against Santana, the other woman's eyes widening slightly and her fist clenching in an attempt to hide the betrayal.

"Quinn!" Charlie shouted, standing up to physically separate them. "Leave Santana alone."

Santana glanced at her wife and took a deep breath. She didn't miss that Charlie's words weren't an outright denial. But, they would deal with this like they did everything else, away from the nosy prying eyes of Charlie's sisters. "That was when we were getting married. Everybody has doubts." She waved away the new information and vowed that her wife would have to explain herself.

"Doubts?" Quinn laughed, twisting the knife just for the sheer joy of it. "What about when Charlie was worried you would leave her, because she doesn't think she has anything to offer you."

Charlie's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe Quinn just said that. "What the hell, Quinn?" She turned to her wife, placing the palms of her hands against Santana's shoulders. She tried to catch Santana's eyes, feeling her own heart drop at Santana's disheartened look. "It was a long time ago—I barely remember saying it."

Just like that, all the anger and frustration blew out of Santana's sails. "But you did say it?" She turned to her wife, blinking rapidly.

"What type of wife are you if Charlie doesn't even know if she should be worried about you adding a dentist to your practice because, and I quote, _'they are good with their hands too'_?"

"Quinn, stop." Charlie pleaded, reaching out for Santana's hand only to have the brunette pull away.

"You _told_ her that?" Santana couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice.

Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe they were in trouble.

She thought they were united in keeping their drama away from Quinn's judgment and Brittany's gossiping ears. It had taken her _months_ to get Charlie to admit her insecurities. Santana thought they had talked about it, she thought—

She thought a lot of things that weren't apparently true.

"I just needed to decompress." Charlie assured, desperately trying to bail herself out of this sinking ship. "I'm _so_ sorry."

But Quinn was on a roll. Seeing the crack in her sister's marriage she hit with a sledgehammer. "Don't be _sorry_ Charlie, be honest. Don't minimize how she makes you feel inadequate."

"Charlie?" Santana physically took a step back. She looked like she had been struck. "You do?"

Charlie hesitated. She wanted to lie, to find some way out of this conversation, but she and Santana had long ago resolved to always be completely honest. After a second, she shrugged. "I just, maybe sometimes—"

"I can't _believe_ you!" Santana spat. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

Charlie threw up her hands, annoyed that she had suddenly become the bad guy. "When _exactly_ was I supposed to tell you? When you were fawning over your new office? Or raving about your new x-ray machine?"

"But you talked to Quinn?" Santana couldn't keep the hurt out of her own voice.

Charlie's annoyance grew. Quinn was her sister and even if she was being a bitch right now, she shouldn't have to apologize for finding someone to talk to while she worked out exactly what she wanted to say to her wife. Sure, she had probably said too much. She had _definitely_ said too much if Quinn's outburst was anything to go by, but she refused to accept Santana's rage for blowing off a little steam. "Yeah, I talked to my _sister._ Is that so wrong?"

"I thought—" Santana took a deep breath, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes. "I thought we were a _team_."

"We _are_ a team." Charlie retorted. "But I can't help it if sometimes I feel like you're the coach and I'm just the player coming off the bench."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Pushing aside the hurt she felt, she focused on her anger. She was angry that Charlie wanted to do this right _now_ with her sisters standing not three feet away. What happened to keeping their lives private?

"Expanding?" Charlie narrowed her eyes at her wife knowingly. It was an argument that had been brewing for months, but both of them had consciously put it on the back-burner. Apparently they were going to do this right now. "You are so sure that expanding the shop is the right thing for us. You can't possibly know that!"

"I just want to help! You pull in a lot of money from the garage and you're popular. You need to figure out what to do because you just don't have time to get to everything."

"You can't solve all of my problems for me Santana. Sometimes, I might have to fail."

"Why in the world would you fail?" Santana scoffed. It was ridiculous to her, even the idea. Charlie was _amazing_ and it killed her that her wife doubted that.

Charlie shrugged, "It could happen. You can't know for sure how everything is going to turn out."

"I don't want you to _ever_ have to fail."

"Then that should be my choice."

"Fine! Fail then!" Santana threw up her hands in frustration. "Just know, it's my life too."

"Is it?" Charlie retorted. "Because it sure seems like I'm the one taking all of the risks here." She instantly regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

"Santana Lopez?" They hadn't noticed Officer Chang approach the cell. "You are free to go. Now, I am assuming you still want to bail out the others?"

"Let them figure it out on their own." Santana rubbed the side of her eye, flicking stray tears away to prevent them from beginning the trek down her cheeks.

Once she started, she wasn't sure she could stop.

"Santana, wait—" Charlie called after her.

"I wouldn't want to solve your problems for you Charlie." Santana turned away without a backward glance. "I need time away from all of you fucking Fabrays."

"Santana please, let's talk about it." Charlie begged.

"Why don't you just talk to your _twin_ about it?" Santana stepped out of the door. "You seem to be really good at that."

Charlie watched her wife leave and turned her back to the bars of the cell, slowly allowing herself to sink to the floor.

"Well that went well." Rachel observed.

"One more Fabray Fuck Up for the win." Charlie noted.

"She'll get over it." Quinn attempted to alleviate Charlie's concern. "It's good for you guys to finally argue—"

Charlie looked at her twin incredulously. "What do you mean by finally? We fight all the time."

Quinn and Brittany exchanged a glance. "But we never see you two fight."

Charlie tapped her head lightly on the bars. "Why, because we aren't idiots and fight in front of the rest of the family, like the pair of you?"

Rachel smirked. At least not everything about Santana had changed.

"Still." Quinn insisted, "She should let you follow your dreams. It's been how many years? It's time you finish your Masters and look into working for NASA. She owes you that much."

"She doesn't owe me anything." Charlie closed her eyes, wishing her sisters away and replaying the argument with her wife over in her head. "And I got my Masters a long time ago."

Quinn's jaw dropped. "You did?"

Charlie nodded, glancing at her slowly. "Yeah, I put Santana through school and then she did the same for me. Why? What did you think we were arguing about?"

"But the shop? She wants you to expand and you don't want to be stuck there?"

"Stuck?" Charlie furrowed her brow. "When did I say that?"

Quinn fell silent.

Maybe Charlie had never _said_ she felt stuck. But that's what she meant. Fears about her marriage, about her work, all of it was something Quinn could very easily identify as the dissatisfaction that came through being denied access to following her dreams. Charlie just didn't recognize what was happening. She shook her head, almost feeling bad for her sister.

She had to help set Charlie free.

"She wants me to expand so that I can hire more people." Charlie explained. "Expansion means I can pull myself out of the garage work and just oversee operations. She thinks that's the first step in getting away from the shop so that I have time for NASA or whatever else I might want to do."

Brittany's brow furrowed. "Then what is the argument? Isn't that what you want?"

"When I was fifteen, _sure,_ that sounded like the dream. But now, _Santana_ is my dream. Do I want to work eighty hours a week at a place where my best designs are going to get blown into outer-space on a rocket? That's just not what I want anymore."

Quinn frowned. Charlie must just be feeling insecure. No one would ever pass up a job where they could be important for a small unassuming life like the one Charlie was leading now. "Well Charlie, you could at least apply for a job with—"

Charlie watched Quinn more closely. Something else was going on here. But her knee hurt and after the argument with her wife, her heart did too. She didn't have time to worry about Quinn's shit. "I _have_ applied for a job, and I got offers. Several."

She sighed at the thought. Santana had been her biggest cheerleader, insisting that applying for the job just meant that she would have options. But once the offers started coming in, Charlie forced herself to take a real deep look at what she wanted. Her family was happy and she felt satisfied. For her, that was enough.

Seeing that neither Quinn, nor Brittany, nor Rachel—what the fuck was she still doing there?—were going to let it go, she continued. "Santana always pushes me to take them, but why should I? Why uproot my family, disrupt my wife's practice and move half-way across the country for something I don't even care about anymore?"

Quinn sank limply down to the bench that was bolted to the cinder-block wall, blinking as she assimilated the information. "Wow, I didn't know."

"Yeah, well forgive me for not telling you everything. You are kind of a bitch."

"Charlie!" Rachel gasped.

"It's true." Brittany agreed. "You are a judgey bitch."

"I am not." Quinn defended half-heartedly.

"You are." Brittany insisted. "We know you're perfect, but maybe you don't have to shove it down our throats every other five minutes."

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, it gets a little old."

"And _you_." Brittany turned on her sister. "I thought you were _boring_. I have avoided you for _years_ because I thought you had no idea how to have fun."

The other woman smirked. "Well maybe I liked being avoided."

"Tough." Brittany wagged her finger seriously, and for a moment both twins almost commented on how much she resembled their mother. "Because we are now hanging out more regularly."

"Whatever. I may have to come live with _you_ if I can't get Santana to forgive me."

"She will." Brittany assured.

Quinn only half-listened to the interchange. If Charlie wasn't unhappy with Santana—if she wasn't drowning in a sea of regrets and wasted dreams—then maybe she had been wrong. Maybe it wasn't Charlie's marriage that was falling apart.

Maybe it was her own.

Her breath hitched when she felt Rachel's fingers move beside her, grazing the side of her forearm accidentally. Even the briefest of contact with this woman who had so quickly seemed to take root in Quinn's soul felt more powerful and life changing than anything she had ever felt with Puck.

She would love to be able to chalk up these feelings to just something that had occurred this weekend and would never happen again.

But she wasn't sure she _could_ go back to being the woman she was before.

Not after everything she had learned and done. It was as if she had been viewing the entire world with blinders. Now, able to take in the expanse and vastness, she was overwhelmed by how vibrant and beautiful it was. Rachel had given that to her. After a moment, Quinn sighed. "I'm not perfect."

"We know. So quit telling us you are." Charlie quipped.

"No, I just—I'm not perfect. I try so _damn_ hard and then I look at you Charlie with your wife and kids and your perfect life, and I just can't compete."

"This isn't a competition."

"I thought if I was the perfect wife, the perfect mother than all of the rest of this would fall into place." Quinn admitted. "But I just feel so far from perfect it's a joke. I'm a joke."

"You aren't." Brittany assured.

"I slept with Rachel."

"What?"

"What about Puck?"

"I don't know." Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand. "But I do know that I felt things I never have before."

"You did?" Rachel grinned. "I did too."

"That's great." Charlie scoffed. Leave it to Quinn to save some big self-actualizing moment for when they were in jail.

"I know." Quinn sighed, completely missing the sarcasm. "It's just—before yesterday, I felt things in five minutes that I haven't felt in years with Puck."

"That's great, Quinn." Brittany nodded, trying to be supportive.

"I think maybe, I might be a lesbian."

"Congratulations." Charlie leaned back against the bars. "But that still doesn't fix things, you have to talk to Puck."

"I don't think I've had an orgasm in months, maybe even all year." Brittany admitted awkwardly. "I think, maybe, that should have been the sign that things with me and Blaine weren't good."

"What?" Charlie looked at her sister, the color draining completely from her face.

"I know what you mean." Quinn laughed. "I haven't been, you know, turned on by Noah in years." She shook her head. "Let alone an orgasm."

Rachel beamed proudly. She had definitely changed that aspect of Quinn's life.

Charlie blinked and stood abruptly. "I have to go call Santana and beg her to take me home."

"Charlie?" Quinn looked around the jail cell. "In case you didn't notice, we're kind of having a moment."

"No!" Charlie spun on her twin, her eyes flashing with furious rage. " _You're_ having a moment. God! I was such an idiot. I can't believe I listened to the two of you. I dressed up as a damn puppet!"

"Hey."

"You've had Santana and me running around like freaks for the last _two days_. I have been terrified of drifting apart and destroying our marriage."

"Chuck, it's good to keep things spicy—"

"No! _Shut up_. Neither of you have had an orgasm in the last six months? And you are trying to give _me_ marriage advice?"

"Charlie, how good can it be? You guys are putting it in your stupid calendars? You guys are lame—"

"You don't know what you are talking about." Charlie glared at them seriously.

"Don't I?" Brittany challenged. "Things with Blaine were _fine_ until—"

"Until what? We've all known Blaine was gay since you first brought him to dinner. Santana and I had a bet on how long it would take him to come out. She won, by the way. So how about instead of judging my marriage, you two figure out your shit?"

"Hey!"

"Damn it, Quinn. You're miserable with Puck." Charlie shook her head. "You two complain that Santana and I are _boring_? That we need to spice things up? I can't believe I listened to you! Even on our worst week, we each get at least two. _Two!_ I mean, sometimes it's about me, and sometimes it's about her, but _two!_ And _you're_ telling _me_ that _my_ marriage needs fixing? You two are the biggest bitches I've ever met. How dare you?" She pushed Quinn out of the way and called down the hall. "Guards? Somebody! Hey!"

Both her sisters fell silent at the admission.

Charlie ran her hands through her short cropped blonde hair and swore. "I've been so worried, and for _what_? So that I can conform to Quinn's ideas of how a good lesbian should act? Get your own fucking wife and leave us the hell alone."

"Chuck—"

" _No!_ " Charlie pulled on the bars to the cell. "Guards, can I get a phone call?"


	5. Monday

**Author's Note:** This is the conclusion. Thanks to everyone who has stuck through to the end.

* * *

 **MONDAY**

"Of all the foolish, childish things you have ever done, Brittany," Russell held the door open for the convicts he had sprung. He thought he was over getting woken up ridiculously early in the morning to bail one of his girls out of some stupid plot. "Getting arrested has to be the worst."

Brittany stepped back incredulously. "What makes you think it was my fault?"

"Wasn't it?" He challenged. "And you managed to pull _Santana_ and _Charlie_ into whatever asinine plot you had?"

Brittany and Quinn both snorted at the idea. Prior to this weekend, they may have thought the same thing.

But Santana and Charlie were the worst.

Russell continued, missing Charlie's smirk and Brittany and Quinn's eye rolls. "You can't just keep running away from your problems. You need to figure out—"

Quinn and Charlie looked at Brittany like they expected her to devolve into a fit of tears. She frowned, biting her lip. Maybe before this weekend, she would have done just that. She had lived her entire life searching for her father's approval.

And yet, here with him condescendingly rebuking her on the steps of the precinct, she just didn't care.

She had gone to school, majoring in business where she ultimately graduated before pursuing her art. She married Blaine—someone she wasn't even sure she was attracted to—not in small part because Russell was the one who had introduced him.

And what had listening to her father ever gotten her?

She pursued her art, but that was because _she_ wanted to. He meant well, but she was done listening to his well-intention ed advice. It was time she started living for herself. She didn't have time for playing nice anymore, it was time to quit wasting time and become happy with her life

"Dad." Brittany interrupted, stopping dead in her tracks. "Shut up."

Russell was so startled by the uncharacteristic fire in Brittany's eyes, he softened. "Princess, I know it's been rough—"

"No." Brittany shook her head, throwing up her hands in frustration. "You don't know. I just realize _now_ that I've been spending my whole life making decisions I thought you would be proud of. I married a _gay_ man."

Russell looked a little sheepish. "We tried to encourage you to find what was best—"

" _You knew!_ " Brittany laughed at the hilarity. How hadn't she seen it? Was she the only one?

"Of course I knew." Russell shot back incredulously. "In fact, I've always wondered how he managed to get it up."

Quinn snorted and Russell turned back to look at his oldest daughter and the stranger beside her more closely. He sized Rachel up, suddenly recognizing that their fingers were interlaced, and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Wait, do I know you?"

"This is my girlfriend, Dad." Quinn squoze Rachel's hand and the brunette smiled broadly.

"Soon-to-be-girlfriend." Rachel corrected.

Quinn winced. "Yeah, I probably need to talk to Puck." She took a deep breath and faced her father. "I think we are going to need to take a break."

Russell's jaw dropped and he blinked at his oldest daughter.

What had happened this weekend?

Charlie clapped her father on the shoulder, laughing at his reaction. That was about how she felt. "Welcome to the party. But I've got to go."

"Go where?" Russell queried.

This was just getting more and more ridiculous. Shouldn't he as a father be able to scold his children after springing them from prison? He huffed and crossed his arms. Maybe he was foolish for expecting a little more respect.

"I have to get Santana to forgive me!" Charlie called over her shoulder, running down to the street and trying to hail a cab.

"Good luck!" Brittany called after her. She noticed Officer Chang exit the building in regular plain clothes, a gym bag flung over his shoulder. She thought back to all of the revelations she had learned from her sister and her wife. Santana and Charlie just did what they wanted, the consequences be damned. And they were _happy_ for it.

Maybe she _should_ take a page out of their book.

Not bothering to question herself, she darted toward the officer and pulled up short.

She may be emboldened, but she still wasn't an idiot. "Hi."

"Hey." He smiled, blushing lightly and adjusted the gym bag to the other shoulder. "So it looks like you are finally a free woman." He teased.

"Yep." She bit her lip, deciding before grabbing the fabric of his shirt and pulling him close to her. He paused for a moment, studying her face before closing the gap and meeting her lips half-way. It was amazing, enlightening and brilliant all at the same time. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

She pulled back and nearly devolved into giggles at the stunned look on the officer's face. "I've wanted to do that since I met you."

"It probably would have been inappropriate." Officer Chang grinned. "You know, because I was on duty. But I'm glad you did."

"Yeah." Brittany matched his grin. "Me too, Officer."

"You can call me Mike."

"Sure." Her grin broadened. Maybe this weekend wasn't so bad after all.

Officer Chang stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously. "So uh, maybe some time, we could, you know, get together, or, I mean…"

Brittany giggled at his discomfort, then grew instantly serious. "Wait. Are you gay?"

Mike coughed. "What? I—No?"

"It's okay if you are." She assured quickly. "Both my sisters are apparently gay. My soon-to-be-ex-husband is gay. I just—don't really want to go through that again. So, I need to know, on a scale of one to…" She trailed off, trying to think of the right phrase before giving up. "On a scale of one to gay, how gay are you?"

Mike looked around for help. Receiving none, he furrowed his brow. "Uh, a one, I guess? Not gay? I think?"

"But you're single?" She insisted.

"Yes." He held out the word skeptically. "Are you?"

"Newly single. Give me a call sometime. You know, when I'm not getting arrested." She grinned and pecked him on the cheek again before darting back to her father who looked even more stunned than before.

"Wait!" He called after her. "You didn't give me your number!"

"I'm sure you can figure it out." She called back, giggling as she slipped her wedding ring from off her finger. She had things to do. She needed to find Blaine, hopefully he was still categorizing his hair gels. She needed to tell him that she didn't hate him. That her life, everything moving forward would be okay. Then she could mourn the loss of her failed marriage and move on to everything else that life had in store.

Mike grinned and leaned back against the outdoor wall of the precinct. He was suddenly very glad that he had picked up the extra shift this weekend.

Maybe good things were in store for him, too.

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Quinn quietly shut the front door, hoping to gain courage with each step she took further into their home. It was after ten in the morning, so Beth should already be at school, which meant that Noah was probably working in his office.

She turned and jumped to see that he was instead waiting on the couch.

"Puck!" She took a deep breath to try and calm her heart "What are you doing?"

"I guess I should ask you the same thing?" Puck shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

She gulped. Did he know? How could he have already known? "Noah—"

"Save it." He stood and only then did she see that he had a packed duffel bag on the floor by his feet. "You already said more than enough."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I don't—"

He pulled out his phone and pressed a couple of buttons. Her own voice filled the room, ' _It's just—I just feel like I'm not in control of him anymore.'_

Her eyes widened. No, no, no, no, _no_. There was no way this was happening. She did _not_ accidentally call her husband right at the moment that she was bemoaning her sex life. Yes, she was going to tell him they needed a break. She might even admit that she wasn't attracted to him.

But this?

This was cruel.

Not even Puck deserved this.

She heard Charlie's barked laughter and Rachel's gentle prying. _'And that's what you like? Being in control?'_

"Noah—" She tried to stop him only to have him hold up his hand and allow the message to continue to play.

' _I don't know. But sometimes, I think the very sight of Puck just completely turns me off. He speaks and I feel my ovaries drying up. Like poof!'_ Her carefree laugh sounded throughout the room like a bell, almost like it was tolling the death of their marriage right in front of her. _'Gone.'_

He pushed the button on the phone, pursing his lips into a thin line. "I think that is about all there is to say."

She stood in the entry way, completely dumbfounded as he moved to go past her.

"You know what really stinks?" He asked, shaking his head. "I thought we were happy."

She was about to lie. About to add her own words of _'we were'_ or _'we are'_ but they die in her throat. He deserves more than some placating words to stroke his ego. She is _miserable_ with him, and she suspected he might feel the same way. "Did you?"

"Yeah, we had sex all the time." He defended, fiddling with the straps of his luggage and still not meeting her eyes.

"Puck—I'm not happy." She leaned down to catch his line of sight. "And I don't think you are either."

He shrugged, his shoulders drooping slightly. "I guess I thought we could work through it."

She nodded. She knew the feeling. "Yeah, but I don't think I want to."

He nodded thoughtfully, taking the information in. "Okay."

"Okay? Just like that? We're over?" Quinn prodded. She wasn't sure why she was needling the point, but she couldn't help but feel like he was just giving up.

"What do you want me to say? _'Oh no Quinn, please stay with me. I know I disgust you, but I'll try better.'"_ He mocked. "If you don't want to be with me anymore, I don't think this can work."

She feels a burden lift off her shoulders, a weight she didn't know she had been carrying evaporate. "What about Beth?"

"She's a kid." Puck shrugged again. "She'll be fine. We'll tell her together and she will be okay."

"I didn't want it to be like this." Quinn insisted. "I was trying."

"Not hard enough, apparently." Puck retorted, then instantly flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry. No matter what happens, I don't want Beth to think we hate each other."

"I don't hate you."

"It sure sounded like it." He held up the phone for evidence. "Or was I just too stupid to understand?"

Quinn sighed. "You weren't stupid. I just—I think we got married really young. I didn't know…I still don't know what I want. I just—"

"Don't want me." He finished for her sadly.

She nodded hesitatingly and he blew out a breath.

"Did you meet someone?" He asked, his voice low but despite that she can easily sense the vulnerability.

Again, her first instinct is to lie. But she's learned something over the last few days, and he should get an honest answer. "Yeah."

"I guess that's it then."

"If it makes you feel any better, she's a woman." Quinn adds, uncertain of why (or how really) that is supposed to make him feel better. "I think—I think I might not be straight."

Puck chuckles and runs his hair over his short clipped hair. "You know, that kind of does make me feel better."

"So it's not you, it's me."

He smiles sadly and hugs her before opening the front door. "Don't call me for a while. I think I just need some time."

She agreed instantly. "Of course." Then a thought makes her pause. "What about Beth?"

"We should talk to her now, she's in the yard." He assured, gulping down the emotion that rose within him. "I figured that having your parents split was a pretty good reason to miss school"

Quinn nodded. She probably would have insisted on sending her daughter to school, but it didn't make much sense to argue over something like that, now. "So should I talk to her first, or—?"

He shook his head. "Together. You and I just—we will need some time apart."

"You are a good man Noah." Quinn remarked, feeling a pang of loss despite knowing that this is the right move both for her and for their family. Puck deserved to be happy. _She_ deserved to be happy.

He nodded and dropped his luggage at the door, waiting for Quinn to lead the way toward the back yard where Beth was playing.

And just like that, their marriage was about to be over.

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Rachel paced in her hotel room.

Quinn couldn't have changed her mind, right?

No. She had been fairly adamant.

It was going to be fine.

Unless it wasn't.

Maybe Quinn would decide to reconcile with her husband.

Maybe the future that had suddenly started to emerge, the hope of a better life, maybe that would fade before she ever even had the chance. Maybe she was doomed to a life of misery and discontent.

Her phone rang and she was tempted just to ignore it when she didn't recognize the number. Instead she decided that since Finn hadn't called her since last night it was probably safe to answer.

"Rachel Berry." She answered.

 _'Rachel, this is William Schuester.'_

"William." She cleared her throat and stood up straighter. "How are you?"

 _'Considering my wife is about to have a child with another man, I'm good. You?'_ She could hear his sarcasm over the line.

She closed her eyes, grimacing. "Believe me, I know how you feel."

 _'I know you do, and I'm sure there are people in the industry that would find a way to blame you.'_

She held her breath in anticipation.

This was the industry she chose. It was cruel and misogynistic. He wasn't wrong. When Finn's indiscretion came to light, _she_ would be the wone who was criticized. Reporters would likely question what she had done to force such a kind man to cheat. Producers would question her ability to act as a romantic lead. Directors might insist on her showing a little more skin, demonstrating just how alluring she could be.

It was demeaning to think about.

But it was also reality.

Her team had been subtly encouraging her to reconcile with Finn all weekend. Texts and calls along with messages, 'just publicly forgive him' seemed to be their favorite line of advice.

This was her biggest fear, Will holding Finn's affair against _her._ He had the power to destroy her career, especially given how much he adored Finn.

 _'But I know you are probably hurting just as much as I am.'_

She blew out her breath. This was almost too good to be true.

 _'So I was wondering, I'm casting for a new show_ — _'_

The rest of his words passed in a blur.

All of this mess, everything she feared: it was all going to be okay.

After ending the call with Will, she felt her heart leap at the text message from Quinn that was waiting for her: _Want to grab lunch tomorrow? I am going to need to find a new job._

Things were definitely going to work out in her favor.

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Charlie burst through the front door and hobbled as fast as she could back to the kitchen, she stopped short at the entryway, unsure of how to proceed. Santana had Jack in his highchair playing with Cheerios while she and Mia sat at the table while she scrubbed furiously at the dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Charlie frowned. This wasn't good

"I'm _so_ sorry." She blurted.

Santana nodded, her back still turned in a clear attempt to avoid meeting her eyes. "Mia, can you go take Jack upstairs to play?"

"Jack's a baby. He doesn't play good."

"Well." Santana corrected, turning around to address their daughter. "But maybe you can play while he crawls around? Mama and I need to talk."

Mia sighed with annoyance far beyond her years. "Fine. Come on, Captain Jack."

Santana scooped Jack out of his highchair and set him on his feet. He toddled unevenly after his sister, blissfully unaware of the tension in the room.

Both parents watched until the kids were far enough out of earshot. Santana turned back to the sink and Charlie waited awkwardly in the doorway.

"You start." Charlie prodded. She had screwed up. But she needed to fix it and she could only do that if her wife would turn around and talk to her.

Santana took a deep breath and paused. "I'm pissed at you."

Charlie chuckled humorlessly. "Okay."

"I'm furious that you told your sister _private_ details about our lives. I don't mind that you talk to her, but certain things are between us. I thought we had talked about it?"

"We had." Charlie agreed completely. "I messed up."

"Damn right you did."

"I thought—I just had to talk it out. I thought I could trust Quinn—" Charlie tried to explain.

"Clearly a bad choice."

"Clearly." Charlie agreed with a small smile.

Santana paused for a moment and then asked the question that had _really_ been bothering her. "You feel like I am bossy?" She didn't care if she sounded a little vulnerable, she needed to know. What exactly had Charlie told Quinn?

"I like it when you boss me around." Charlie admitted, hating that her wife had _any_ reason to doubt herself. "And none of that should be news to you."

"Then what the hell was that?" Santana grumbled, scrubbing at the pan more furiously. "Your sister attacked me. Clearly this was more than just a little gossip. Are you really so unhappy?"

"No!" Charlie shook her head. "I mean, yeah, we fight about expanding, but I like what I do."

"You don't have to expand if you don't want to. I just want you to get to go work for NASA if that is what you want. If this is about money we won a bucket-load. We have plenty in savings—"

"It is not about the money." Charlie assured. "I know we can afford it. It is more about—like—I don't know. I just have this future I plan for us, in my head, late at night. Expanding doesn't really fit into that anymore."

"So what does?"

Charlie smiled, glad to see that Santana's hands had stilled. She stepped toward her wife. "You. Me. The kids. K9. Being home every night for dinner. You know, that type of stuff."

Santana smirked and turned away from the sink, leaning back against the counter. Their black lab lifted up his head from his bed in the corner of the room on hearing his name. "And what is that future?"

Charlie shrugged. She felt a little dumb admitting the soft dreams she hadn't really even acknowledged herself. "I don't know, it's probably stupid."

"It's not to me."

"I just picture us with maybe another kid—" She held up her hand before Santana could interject. "I know, we've spent a ton of money on IVF and after Jack, no more getting pregnant. I agree. But what about adopting?"

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Jack is eighteen months old. Don't you think it's a little early to be talking about this?"

Charlie grinned. That wasn't a no. "I just—I love making babies with you. I love our family and our life and everything about it."

"That's not what you told Quinn."

"I just—I thought that we were in trouble. I love you Santana, more than I thought it possible to love someone. But Quinn—"

"What's so wrong with our boring lives?" Santana retorted. "Look around. Just because we're not jumping from one catastrophe to the next like Brittany or miserable like Quinn, doesn't mean that we are in trouble."

"I know that now."

"We have two kids. I _like_ a little boring." Santana admitted.

Charlie chuckled, snaking her hand around Santana's waist. "Me too."

"So excuse me if I'd rather watch Netflix with you, or if I'd rather watch you play video games. I _like_ how drama free we are. I _enjoy_ spending time with you, even if we aren't doing anything."

"I do too."

"And yeah, maybe we can spend more time together, spice things up. But who is your sister to judge us?"

Charlie took a deep breath and pulled her wife's hand into her own. "Santana. Let me just say this once and I'll repeat it a billion times if I have to. I was wrong. I'm sorry. I should never have even considered what Britt and Quinn were saying. They are idiots and I'm _happy_ with our life together."

"You are?" Santana knew it was cheesy, but she felt her heart melt a little at Charlie's words. It was just what she needed to hear, but more than that, she knew her wife meant it.

"I am. I love you."

"I love you too." The corners of Santana's lips ticked upward. "How about we agree that we never listen to your sister again?"

"Deal!" Charlie grinned enthusiastically.

"And we agree that this weekend never happened?" Santana chuckled nervously, a little embarrassed by her own behavior from the last few days. She hadn't meant for Quinn's comments to get under her skin, but she couldn't help it.

Charlie shuffled a little apprehensively. "Well not everything. There were a couple of things about the last few days that I don't ever want to forget."

"Really?" Santana snorted. "Like what?"

"Like the look on your face when I tackled Quinn for you." Charlie grinned devilishly. "That was so hot."

"It was?" Santana laughed. "Well it was pretty hot when you tackled her."

"Or when you got us the Princess Unicorn Sparkles costume for free?" Charlie licked her lips. "I almost took you right there."

Santana chuckled. "Alright. Maybe there were some redeeming aspects of this weekend."

"I mean, maybe we can spend some time together without the monsters or my idiot sisters. I forgot how much I like spending time with you, doing nothing, or on wild sex-capades."

"Don't ever say sex-capades again."

"We could have kitchen sex."

Santana laughed at the suggestion. When Charlie didn't, she blushed. "The kids could see."

"The kids are upstairs." Charlie reminded, her own grin broadening.

Santana didn't protest when Charlie started placing soft, gentle kisses along her pulse point, sucking lightly against the fragile skin. Santana moaned, but turned them so Charlie's back was to the counter while her fingers teased the hem of Charlie's shirt. "Get this off." She moaned, using her good hand to help strip her wife of the unnecessary item.

Charlie grinned at the hungry look in her wife's eyes, raking over her breasts and torso. "So bossy." She teased.

"Shut up." Santana didn't give her a chance to retort, reaching up on her tip toes to cover Charlie's mouth with her own. With the fingers of her bad arm, she traced the lines of the muscles of Charlie's abdomen, making the blonde shiver, while using her good arm to pull Charlie's head just a little closer. Her fingers paused over her wife's clothed center and rubbed light circles.

Charlie felt the her toes curl and arched her hips closer to her wife, "Please." She murmured against her wife's tongue, pulling at her own gym shorts. Every muscle in her body was pleading for her wife's gentle touch, begging for more contact. Her own fingers dug into the tight skin of Santana's back. She was well aware she was going to leave a mark, but in that moment simply didn't care.

Santana's good hand trailed along the soft lines of Charlie's biceps, along her torso and down her abdomen until finding their ultimate destination against Charlie's soft well groomed curls. She traced her fingers along her wife's folds, grinning at how wet she already was. Charlie shifted against the counter, bucking her hips up to give Santana better access. Santana felt her own wetness pool, slick against her core.

"How are you still so damn hot?" Santana murmured to herself.

"I'm a mechanic. That's like the hottest profession ever." Charlie grunted and Santana slipped in one finger, pumping slowly and methodically, using her thumb to stimulate her wife's clit. Charlie moaned at the contact, bracing herself.

Santana added a finger and grinned when she felt her wife's shudder and accompanying moan. "God."

"You can call me Santana." She smirked, adding a third finger as Charlie's walls stretched around her.

Charlie felt her climax building. "Just— _please_."

Santana was tempted to see what Charlie's response would be if she added her fourth finger, but decided against it. Instead, she rhythmically and steadily pumped her fingers, grinning broadly as Charlie's walls clenched around her. She felt her wife cum hard against her hand, the sweet juices coating Santana's palm. She loved the sight of Charlie coming off her peak, her chest rising and falling rapidly to catch her breath. When she finally opened her eyes, they were dilated and full of arousal.

Just the sight of it made Santana squirm herself. Later, she promised herself, watching with rapt attention while Charlie regained control. She felt a surge of pride when Charlie slipped off the counter top and wobbled slightly as if her legs weren't quite ready to support the rest of her. Charlie slid down, her back against the cabinets and pointed the spot beside her. Santana joined her on the floor, sliding up next to lean against Charlie's side.

"You know, I was thinking." Charlie mused, finally catching her breath. "We have sex in the kitchen and we are super close to food."

"You're just realizing that now." Santana teased. Leave it to Charlie to think of food right after sex.

"No. Like, we finish…yeah we should put our clothes back on...probably. But we don't really have to go anywhere, right? The food's right there." She gestured over to the refrigerator.

Santana surveyed the room. It probably wasn't sanitary, but well, she had definitely eaten her wife out in worst places. "That's pretty fucking practical."

Charlie chuckled. "I love it when you swear. It's so hot."

"We have this marriage shit locked down." Santana swore purposefully, just to see her wife laugh more.

Charlie laughed heartily. "Maybe we should get a couch in here?"

Santana frowned. A couch in their kitchen seemed a little tacky. But— "I'll think about it." She interlaced her fingers with Charlie's holding their hands together. "So what lies did you tell them this weekend?"

Charlie smiled. "Uh, let me think." It was a longtime game they had played together. Small comments to her sisters or parents to see what outlandish information they could make the others believe. Santana had come up with it as a way to calm Charlie's nerves. It worked.

Also, it was super hot to watch her wife put on her acting face.

But it worked a little _too_ well. After the first few years, they needed an elaborate system to catalog their lies, lest they be discovered.

"I think it was just the three-some." Charlie admitted after a moment. Everything else was either true or was built on prior lies.

Santana frowned, considering the suggestion. Sometimes their lies had actually led to some pretty extreme vacations. "Three-somes are awkward. But if you wanted—?"

"Nah, I'm good."

 **THE END**


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